Appendices
by sarenia
Summary: An unexpected development in Draco's life leads to much more than just the revelation of an old family secret. In its wake, Hermione learns something about attraction, and that ancient magic is not just a fabled tale. AU Dramione, demon!Draco, tentacles, consentacles, EWE, fluff. M for language and explicit lemons. ON TEMPORARY HIATUS until I've taken care of RL challenges.
1. Changes

**A/N: This is my first story for Dramione and I'm really excited to explore something I haven't seen often in the fandom. It was planned as PWP but then the characters had a mind of their own ;). The story will be an AU Dramione with demon!Draco, tentacles, EWE, fluff, and it will contain consensual, explicit lemons. Please consider this if you're squeamish!**

 **All my love goes to two people who helped me so much with this story. LittleMissEighty-Sixed is a wonderful cheerleader and alpha reader who helped me with parts of the plot. Riptidemonzarc is my most-trusted and invaluable beta-reader who makes sure to eliminate all the mistakes and always gives in-depth advice (and helps me to understand the English language better!). I really appreciate all your hard work! 3 All mistakes are my own as I tend to constantly fiddle around with my writing.**

 **The aesthetic is by LittleMissEighty-Sixed. Thank you so much, hun! 3**

 **Cross-posted from AO3.  
**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

Twenty-five years of being a pureblood from an untainted, highly esteemed family. Twenty-five years of no worries worse than what shirt to wear with his robes, and now _this_. Well, except for that _very_ unpleasant year during which an utterly sadistic madman had held the wizarding world by its throat, followed by seven more years where he and his mother had to work exceptionally hard to try and drag the name 'Malfoy' out of the dirt.

He eyed the little, slightly trembling knobs in the ornate cheval glass he'd conjured. Twisting left and right, he saw them lined up in a soft curve from his shoulders down to his hips. How convenient for his father to have received the Kiss shortly after the Final Battle instead of having to explain _this_. Draco exhaled slowly to calm down his rising panic, and pulled his shirt back on before he grabbed the book bound in worn leather again. The old _livret de famille_ was all about Malfoy this, Malfoi that, blather blather blather. No wonder his whole family had such overinflated egos, when they only ever referred to what was in this book.

No, he was looking for side-references: letters, old notes, and diaries from one of his ancestors, preferably from the one responsible for his condition. Merlin's balls, he didn't even know if his father had had it, too, or if it occurred randomly, or if it jumped generations. He didn't know if it was a bloody curse or a hereditary anomaly, or if it was an after effect of a hex during battle. It had been such chaos after he and Narcissa had opposed the Dark Lord (and thus his own father), and he couldn't remember all the curses that had hit him. But, battle curses were meant to have immediate effect, so he probably could rule that out.

His shoulders slumped a little before he rolled the muscles along his spine and looked out of the window of the Malfoy library to observe the sinking sun. He was in for a long night.

ooOoOoOoo

"Mother," Draco addressed the blonde woman in the study. She smiled and gestured to the tea service on the table in front of her.

"Draco. It's good to see you. Have tea with me?"

"Of course, Mother." He took a seat opposite of her, carefully folding the damasque table napkin across his lap and waiting for her to pour the tea.

"Two sugars and a drop of milk?"

"Make that three sugars, please."

She searched his eyes in an unspoken question but complied. "You don't have to be so formal to have tea with me," she said. "We live in the same house, after all."

"I have to ask you something important."

Her eyes lit up, breaking the careful mask she seemed to wear almost all the time recently. "Did you meet somebo—"

"Mother." He groaned and barely suppressed a roll of his eyes. "It's something else." He took a sip of heavenly sweet tea, then pushed the chair back and made to stand while he unbuttoned his shirt. The white napkin fell to the floor, just like her mouth fell open. "Do you know what this is?" He lifted one arm and pointed at the small protrusions with his other.

Her eyes quickly flickered along his sides. "No, I don't. What happened? Did you get hexed? I swear the Blacks have a handful of very elaborate curses. We will make whoever did this beg for mercy."

Draco felt his hackles rising and the bulges expanded and stretched his skin. He'd expected a bit more than a too-quick and perfunctory threat from his mother, no matter that he was convinced of the truth about nasty Black curses. "You're lying."

"I don't know what you—"

"I'm your _son_. I know when you're lying." His voice raised with the last words. "What the fuck are you hiding?"

"Language." She scolded.

"Mother!" He hissed. The stretch on his skin was bordering pain now.

His mother averted her eyes. "I only saw once..." Her throat worked. "I must've been thirteen or fourteen. We were visiting the Malfoys. A visit to prepare the marriage contracts, of sorts, but I sneaked out to have a look at that fabulous piano your grandparents had in the Music Room. But the piano wasn't the only thing I saw there." She took a deep breath.

"What was it, then?" Draco urged her on.

"Your grandfather Abraxas. And my aunt Lucretia. She was sitting on the piano, her legs spread by those _things_ that came out of Abraxas' back." She gesticulated to Draco's sides. "But instead of screaming in horror, she seemed to relish it. And there were more of those things touching all of her body and—"

A quick wave of his hand interrupted her. "Stop. Please. I can imagine the rest." He watched her flushed face, wondering if she would've liked that, too. Draco stomped that thought into the furthest remote corner of his mind. He didn't need that picture haunting him. "And Father? Was he also afflicted?"

Narcissa shook her head. "No. But it didn't seem that Abraxas considered himself _afflicted_. He missed your grandmother a lot but I think he was content about his health until the Dragon Pox. And Lucretia seemed to have no objections either." She watched him close his shirt again. "Do they hurt?"

He hesitated. "Sometimes. Hell, I don't know. I don't think I've had them fully expanded yet, so I don't know if it'll hurt."

"How long...?"

"Yesterday. I noticed them for the first time on my bloody birthday. Good thing I managed to talk you out of that ridiculous party you've planned."

She didn't reprimand him for his language this time, or chastise him for his lack of gratitude concerning her efforts to establish their family in the appropriate social circles again, but she held his gaze. "Have you begun to research it yet?"

"Yes. But I couldn't find anything in the _livret de famille_ and other official records. No comment, no footnote, no obscure hint."

"Our _livret de famille_ isn't what you need. We need to go to Gringotts."

ooOoOoOoo

Draco had never been able to shake off the uncomfortable shudders that had accompanied all his visits to the family vault since Voldemort's defeat. Not as much that he feared an underhanded attack; no, the goblins were far too professional for that, but to know that he'd never be able to escape the maze of vaults gave him the skivvies. On top of that, he always had to pass any items by the curse breaker in charge. To eliminate Dark Artifacts, the Ministry claimed. Not that he himself wasn't a bloody Walking Dark Artifact anyway, with that blasted Mark on his left arm.

And that's how he'd crossed Granger again. She'd obviously declined a Ministry position and had instead chosen to work as a curse breaker. It was all the same to him who checked him for hidden items or the ones he'd carry openly, and he _definitely_ didn't cut down the amount of galleons he'd withdraw from his account at one time so he'd have to pay a visit more often. Because, honestly, a Malfoy didn't get far with only 50 Galleons. Nor did he ever look for a curly brunette every time he went to Gringotts. The mere thought was so ridiculous that he didn't let it out of the deepest recesses of his mind.

The compulsory check didn't turn any nefarious objects up, as usual and expected, but it still was a nuisance. Thank Merlin it hadn't been Granger today. Small beads of sweat formed on his upper lip as he trailed his mother through the security door into the Malfoy section. Narcissa dismissed the goblin with a nod and motioned her son to follow her further in. They walked to a back corner, passing paintings that were out of taste and all kind of collectibles they couldn't fit into the manor anymore, but as much as Draco tried to read her face, her expression was indifferent. With a flick of her wand, she lifted a heap of heavy-looking tapestry, and Draco raised his eyebrows when a metallic trunk appeared.

"Give me your left hand," she ordered, and put it into her right.

"Ow, Mother!" He yelped when a small golden knife slit across his palm and then hers. Her hard grasp hindered him from pulling away reflexively, and he watched their mingled blood fall on the trunk, splashing in big drops onto the family crest. "Blood magic," he murmured as the lock clicked and the trunk which was really more of a chest opened.

"Of course," Narcissa said. She healed the cuts with a wandless spell. "It only works with two living members of the family. The younger one has to use the left hand, the elder one the right. And you need a golden knife but I think that's just for appearances. I'm not willing to challenge magic that old, however."

He nodded and peeked into the box. A wave of suppressed magic emanated from it, and he loosened the tie around his neck. Piles of frayed parchment, stacks of old books, and items that he didn't want to examine further filled the trunk. It had been equipped with an Undetectable Extension Charm to fit all that clutter. "How come you've never told me about this here?"

"It's filled with the real history of our family. And most of it is... unsavoury." She shifted her weight on her other foot. "I thought it best to ignore it."

Draco snorted. "More unsavoury than a raving lunatic planning to take over the world by killing most of its population? More _unsavoury_ than our own flesh and blood enjoying the torture of children in our own drawing room, in our own _home_?" He took a deep breath to tame his anger before he continued and changed the topic. "Do you think an _Accio_ works here? I don't even know what to look for."

His mother stopped him from starting the spell with her cold hand on his wand arm. "First I need your vow that you won't disclose the existence of any of those things to anyone outside of our family."

"Mother, really?" He snapped. Fury started to pound behind his temples in view of Narcissa's misguided protection of family. It had been a long time since the Malfoy family had had anything to lose, and all that Draco had done in recent years was to clearly distinguish himself from Lucius. He couldn't care less if one of his ancestors hadn't behaved appropriately. Hell, most of them probably hadn't, and he might have a lot more cousins than he could imagine.

"I can't have you blabbering our secrets—"

"I don't blabber anything!" he shouted.

"The vow, Draco," she replied with ice in her voice. "I haven't risked so much and worked so hard for this family for nothing."

"What the bloody hell is in there? What can be more horrible than You-Know-Who's revels in our home? What can be more humiliating than the bloody groveling we had to do since Potter killed him? The constant mistrust, and all the fake scandals and outrageous accusations that show up in the Prophet every quarter year?" He felt his skin stretching, then sharp pain, and warm liquid running along his sides, and he looked down his chest. Red spots were blooming on his previously pristine white shirt. "Oh shit."

Narcissa gasped. The cloth of his shirt tented and ripped as his protrusions elongated further than they ever had since he'd noticed them. "You need to calm down, Draco!"

Funny, how she didn't sound calm in the slightest.

He observed small smears of blood on the limbs. _Why isn't it more?_ A tentative try to issue mental orders to one appendage facing him sent an ancient Chinese vase behind him into shards and made his mother duck when three more lashed at her. "Fuck. Sorry, Mother." He winced when she narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't seem to control those... things."

Her hand flew against her mouth and his fingers moved to where her eyes were fixated on while pain started to hammer away in his head. Pointy little nubs were forming on both sides of his forehead. They got bigger and bigger, and his mother's eyes grew with them exponentially. Soon he could grab the protrusions with his hands. They felt warm and wet, with a metallic smell permeating the air. And then he did something very un-Malfoy-ish.

He fainted.

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 **Let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	2. Involvement

**Hermione shows up, finally.**

 **I'm very happy that the first chapter could spark so much interest! Thank you all for your follows, favourites, and your kind comments! They are what we writers thrive on 3.**

 **I'd like to thank Naarna for her input, and LittleMissEighty-Sixed and riptide for their hard work on this chapter. Especially the latter two really helped me with deepening the character development and correcting all my mistakes. If any remained, they belong all to me. I wouldn't even know what to do without you 3!**

 **This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.  
**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

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ooOoOoOoo

Distant sounds reached his ears. Something that might've been a crack and something else that could've been his name. His lids fluttered.

"Malfoy!"

Stinging on his cheek accompanied the sound this time, and he garbled a noise so pitiful that it couldn't have been from him in the first place.

"Wake up, Malfoy!"

The voice was female but not his mother's. Slowly, he opened his eyes only to squint them against the piercing light. "Nnngh!"

"Sorry, too bright." The form above him moved and the light became dimmer. "Who did this to you?" Something shook his shoulder when his eyes drooped closed. "Malfoy! You need to stay awake. Do you know who hexed you?" The voice sounded bossier than anything else now. He groaned and lifted his head a bit to shake it and clear out the fog

 _Oh, of course it would be her._

"Granger." He turned his head when he saw his mother shuffling on the other side of him. Her hand carefully touched his forehead but didn't meet any resistance from the horns he'd sprouted earlier.

"Draco, how do you feel?"

"Nnngh."

"Thank you for your help, Miss Granger. I can take it from here."

"But, Mrs Malfoy, he doesn't look well at all. I think I should—"

"Your help is much appreciated, Miss Granger. I assure you, I will call the best healers to solve this issue."

"Mother, please just—"

"Mrs Malfoy, I insist. As long as he's on Gringotts' property, it's my responsibility to ensure his well-being and safety until a professional healer—"

"Shut up, both of you!" Draco shouted, and pulled a face when his headache erupted again. Those bloody horns probably were starting to grow once more, too, considering the level of anger he'd been in the last time they made an appearance. He wondered how he'd developed such a short fuse recently.

He waited a few moments for one of the witches to say something, then he released the breath he'd been holding. He would've rubbed the bridge of his nose if he only could've been sure that he'd actually move his arm when giving his muscles an order.

Everything was just fucking fantastic, wasn't it?

It seemed that somebody had transfigured the tapestries into a fluffy, comfortable bed. His mother, then, because he doubted the Muggle-born would know the difference between silk and Egyptian cotton, and he definitely preferred the latter. Easier to get stains out, too. The women looked at him with varying levels of concern, sitting now on two chairs that looked Louis Quatorze. Maybe one of his forefathers had snatched them from Versailles before the revolutionaries had broken in.

"Granger, what are you doing in our vault?"

She sat up just a little straighter, and took a deep breath.

"Short version."

She deflated a tiny bit. "It's part of the new Gringotts code of conduct. We have expanded our charms and wards to detect unusual spikes of magic, especially Dark and Wild Magic. It also requires at least one employee in-house at any time who's trained in first aid, magical and Muggle."

"So, are you here because of the magic or because my mother called for help?"

"Both," she admitted. "Two guards and another curse-breaker have already left. I stayed because you were out like a light."

"And like I said, I'm very thankful for Miss Granger's—"

"Mother!" He snapped.

Granger's face turned from annoyed to fascinated as she observed his appendages moving. "They look as agitated as you sound. Is that the reason your magic lashed out enough to set off an alarm? Were you arguing?" She glanced between him and his mother, and then settled her eyes on his face. "I've never seen anything like that before, nor have I read about it besides in some Muggle books. Did your feet turn into hooves?"

"Miss Granger!" His mother's words were indignant and a tad shrill. "You're taking it too far. This is none of your business."

"Mrs Malfoy, I'm an extraordinarily well-trained curse breaker who—"

"Mother, she withstood Bellatrix' torture without—"

He and Granger stopped at the same time and looked at each other. She leaned a bit forward, reaching out with her hand but not daring to touch him. Or maybe she was just not sure where to touch him first.

"I could help you," she whispered.

"I'm not another pet project of yours," he bit out.

"I'll need access to your library and that trunk," she continued without addressing his half-hearted rejection.

Narcissa shot up from her chair. "You will not lay your eyes on the Malfoy documents!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Aren't you sworn to secrecy to each and every client, Granger?"

"I am, in fact. Even if the issue reaches beyond the premises. But not if it's a danger to anyone's life or to the continued existence of the wizarding world."

He interrupted his mother's disagreement before she could even start. "She's been the only one who surpassed me constantly in school. And you know we _owe_ her for that nasty scar, not to mention her testimony at my trial."

Narcissa swallowed hard and nodded. "I hope you understand that I still expect an Unbreakable Vow. After all, you did break into my sister's vault here. And you managed to get _out_ again."

"Accept it, Granger. That's probably the most of a compliment you'll get," Draco mock-whispered which earned him a severe look from both witches.

"We'll receive you at eight o'clock sharp, Miss Granger. Please be punctual. Then we can discuss further particulars."

Granger nodded. "Your _things_ seem to have calmed down, Malfoy. It's probably best for me to get back to work now. Mrs Malfoy." She greeted curtly and turned to leave through the door on the other end of the room.

Draco looked after her and then her words registered, and he glanced down his body. His appendices had retracted and he finally didn't have to worry about errant movements anymore. He propped himself on his elbows to face his mother.

"We'll need a curse breaker to clear the stuff we're taking with us."

"We will," she agreed. "Let's get started. But first let me scourgify and reparo your shirt."

ooOoOoOoo

Hermione muttered a quick spell to smooth out the creases in her clothes. Her shift at Gringotts had taken longer than expected and she'd only had a few minutes to wolf down a sandwich after she'd arrived back home. She walked the few meters from the apparition point to the heavy iron-wrought gate that lead to the manor. It loomed against the darkening sky, the orange and red background painting it on foreboding canvas, and she tried to shake off her uneasiness. Before she could question her decision to come to Malfoy Manor of all places, the gate opened soundlessly and a house elf in an immaculate black suit bowed before her.

"Miss Granger? I is Wompy. Please follows me." She eyed her warily and held her tiny hand out.

She noticed the proud Malfoy crest on the suit and smiled at the elf. "Wompy, I'm pleased to meet you." The livree hinted at the freedom of the elf but that didn't mean she was treated respectfully. The elf started to fidget under her scrutiny and reached her hands further out.

"Miss needs follow me."

Hermione inspected her for signs of abuse but couldn't see any on the visible parts of skin. She pondered walking the four-hundred meters to the main door instead of using the services of a probably unpaid house elf but her feet reminded her of the distances she'd walked on that day already. Gringotts' anti-apparition wards were infallible.

Apparition always left her feeling a bit queasy, especially doing it so quickly after the last one, although it had become easier in the past few years. She took a small step to the right to stabilise her footing when they arrived just behind the front doors, and tried to banish the nausea in her throat. Flying on a broomstick was much worse, she told herself.

The huge connecting doors opened to the hall without any sound, and she wasn't really sure if a foreboding screeching would've been worse. She brushed her sweaty palms over her trousers as subtly as possible.

"Miss Granger, welcome to our humble home," Mrs Malfoy greeted her. "Wompy will take your coat and robes. Please accompany me to the Blue Room where we'll be served a light dinner shortly."

"Dinner?" Hermione squeaked and looked down at her simple black slacks and créme coloured blouse. She was in no state for a dinner with Mrs Malfoy who was carrying her dark grey gown with effortless grace.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Narcissa said with a twitch of her brow. "I am aware that your clothing is... not fully _appropriate_ but I'm willing to overlook your unfortunate lack of proper attire this time. I can imagine that you don't often have the opportunity to attend a meal in higher social circles."

Hermione felt the heat of anger suffuse her cheeks. "I was not aware that this is a visit beyond a solely professional occasion."

"Any invitation between five and nine o'clock will always include dinner in any house that considers itself proper."

"Even if the guest is a _Mudblood_?" Her fight-or-flight instinct settling on fight, she spat the insult with all the venom she could muster and clutched her left forearm. The scar always burned when she was angry.

Narcissa had the decency to flinch, her eyes flickering to the forearm where Hermione's sleeve covered the ugly scar, and looked paler than before. "We don't follow those misguided beliefs anymore, Miss Granger. I would've thought a woman of your intelligence would read the newspapers to keep up with recent developments, be it politically or socially."

"Mother, that's enough. Let it go," Malfoy said from the other end of the hallway. He sauntered closer and held both his arms open to the witches. "Come on, everything's ready."

Hermione agreed on a wordless—if tentative—truce with a nod to Narcissa, and put her hand into the crook of Malfoy's elbow while his mother did the same on the other side. The two Malfoys started talking about things which had to be done in the greenhouses, and she took a closer look at the many paintings lining the silk covered walls. Most inhabitants watched her curiously, some showing blatant sneers, but none of them indicated friendliness. Maybe the aim of this part of the house was to show their guests that the Malfoys were a family not to be trifled with, and not to make them feel welcome. As they passed the room that had left a lot of bad memories, she stiffened up and slowed her steps. Malfoy turned his head, tensed his arm muscles, and stopped.

"Please, go ahead. We'll be joining you soon." He addressed his mother.

Narcissa's eyes glanced between Hermione and her son, then to the door, and understanding flickered across her face. "Of course. Don't take too long or the food will get cold." Her steps were lighter than her stiletto heels should allow but maybe the sounds were merely swallowed by a sophisticated charm on the floor's thick rug.

Hermione stared at a point next to the door to the drawing room and tried to clear her head. She felt Malfoy's hands on her shoulders, twisting her whole body to face him instead of the door.

"Look. Granger, I'm sorry for what my batshit-crazy aunt did to you in this room. We don't enter it anymore if that's any consolation. Not even the elves go in there more often than once a month to check if the windows are still tight." He pushed a hand through his short platinum-blond hair.

She nodded but didn't answer, and rubbed her hands over her arms to fight the faint shivers.

"I was naive. Too young, and a bloody idiot to believe there was honour in taking the Dark Mark. I'm sorry for what happened." His head fell down a little in an attempt to catch her eyes. She stared at his chest instead and forced herself to relax her clenched fists.

"You didn't rat us out back then. Why not?"

"It was _wrong_." He paused a second and swallowed. "At that point I'd seen enough of what Bellatrix and Voldemort were able to do. I was scared shitless of what they would do to me or Mother if they'd ever realise that we weren't strong supporters anymore. Or even worse, that _I_ , a marked _Death Eater_ , didn't want to be a bloody part of it at all. And hating you and the Dunce Duo didn't outweigh that."

Hermione was searching his eyes for any semblance of a false confession. He was either honest or an extraordinarily skilled liar. Whichever it was, it didn't matter at that moment. "Alright. Let's join your mum now." At his hesitation, she added, "We should concentrate on finding help for you. The quicker we can go through your documents, the better."

It was obvious that he wasn't content with that but he lifted his elbow anyway and accepted her hand on his arm. He was warm beneath the smooth cloth, so much warmer than she'd expected, with lean muscles that were relaxed now except for the ones needed to hold up his limb.

Hermione was stunned by the beauty of the room they reached after a few metres. At some point in the past few years they had installed electricity, and the smart arrangement of indirect lighting and candles bathed the furniture in an alluring shimmer. The colour of the walls and upholstery was a subdued light-blue and she could see the elegance and talent that was behind the interior design. She'd half anticipated a large dining table, but it was much smaller and set for a less formal meal. Draco led her to a seat next to him and across from Narcissa, and she noticed that he deliberately left the place empty where the head of house was usually seated.

The grilled salmon looked and smelled delicious. Considering her constant lack of time—and willingness—for cooking something for only herself, this was the most sophisticated dinner she'd had in weeks.

At her nod, Draco poured her a glass from a bottle of chilled white wine after he had filled half a glass for his mother, and then reached for a decanter of water to fill his own. Hermione didn't comment; she'd seen enough of what the aftermath of war in combination with alcohol had done to a lot of people.

Mrs Malfoy lifted her glass. "To a fruitful cooperation." Hermione nodded at her and Draco, and sipped. The wine tasted fruity and tart, a distinct difference to what she usually would allow herself to afford. While her job paid her well enough that she didn't have to turn every knut, she still wouldn't spend twenty or more galleons on a bottle of booze for a random workday dinner.

She picked up her cutlery—a clear intimidation attempt from the Malfoy matriarch to set out three pairs when they'd have only one dish, and maybe dessert, but her mum had prepared her for situations like that, thank you very much—and moaned softly at the first bite. If that sound disconcerted the older witch, she didn't show it, but Hermione sensed a little start from Malfoy which she didn't pay much attention to.

Dinner was a largely silent affair, only interrupted by sparse conversation between the others while she happily drowned in the taste of her food. She indulged in the chocolate cake without shame, faintly promising herself that she'd add another minute to her dental hygiene later. And maybe finally pick up some exercising as her love for cake and chocolate had started to show a while ago.

"I trust everything was to your satisfaction, Miss Granger?"

"The food and wine were excellent, Mrs Malfoy. Thank you."

"Very well. We should repair to the library. The documents are stored there under a conservation charm. Some of them are several hundreds of years old. We also can discuss the extent not only of the Vow but also what you'll have to have a look at."

"About the Vow—"

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger but this is non-negotiable."

"I will not Vow to anything that might hurt others."

"I will not ask it of you. Come." Narcissa's dress rustled when she got up and steered for the door on the other side of the room.

Draco just shrugged his shoulders when Hermione looked at him, and both followed his mother with quick steps. "She tried to make me take one back at Gringotts, and I'm _family_. But it didn't make much sense after you decided to participate in shedding light on the whole affair."

"I'll have tea served and spirits, if you like." Narcissa offered.

"Just tea and some water, please. I'll need a clear head."

"Draco?"

"Same."

Hermione spun once around her axis when she reached the middle of the room, a growing smile on her lips. Large shelves filled with books huge and small, ancient and new, covered the walls of the round tower. There were separate sections for scrolls every few steps with small shelves to store them in. The library went over three stories, with a surrounding balcony allowing for easier access of the books on the first and second floor. It was like one of her library wet dreams come true.

She saw Draco's smirk and it sobered her a bit. As magnificent as the library was, she was here on business. Unpaid business, maybe, but it was still for a more or less professional reason. That her curiosity and eagerness to learn would be sated, too, was a nice side-effect.

Narcissa Malfoy motioned to a large desk on one end of the library. The iridescent glow of a stasis charm covered it and the objects on it. A weak wave of Dark Magic reached her and she whipped her head around to Malfoy.

"What's that? How in Godric's name did you get that out of Gringotts? Or did you hide it when they checked the manor for Dark Magic?" One clammy hand fingered her wand in the holster at her hip.

"Miss Granger, I'm sure you have an approximate estimation on how old and powerful the houses Malfoy and Black are." The older witch beat her son to the answer, and Hermione grit her teeth at the condescending tone. "Our families had enough time to invent all kind of useful spells. A concealing charm for Dark Magic is only a lesser one of them."

Hermione gripped her wand harder and watched the movements of the Malfoys closely.

Draco held up his hands. "Granger, don't look at me like that. I didn't even know that spell existed until this afternoon. Besides, don't they call you the _brightest witch of our age_? I'm not exactly stupid either. Potter knows where you are and when to expect to hear from you again, doesn't he?"

"Yes." She pressed out. "Yes, he does."

"Then let's start working lest he raids the manor with a hundred-fifty Aurors because you passed curfew."

"I don't have such a thing as a curfew!" Hermione spluttered, and almost missed the corner of Malfoy's mouth twisting when she eased her hold on her wand. It kind of seemed like he was amused, the bastard. She made for the desk but was held back by a polite cough from Narcissa. "Right, the Vow."

Malfoy stretched his hand out and Hermione took it. He felt warm in his confident grip, with slight callouses on his palm and index, the signs of broom riding and a lot of writing. If it hadn't been Malfoy of all people, she might've found the combination very alluring.

"'I swear on my Magic and my life that I will keep any information about the Malfoy family a secret to anybody except members of said family.'"

Hermione repeated Narcissa's words and added, "Unless a person, or creature, or the existence of the wizarding world is in danger."

Malfoy interjected before his mother could let out more than an indignant huff. "You won't get any better, Mother." Then he said, a bit softer, "We need her help."

Her mouth formed a tight, white line, but then she nodded once. She swirled her wand in a slightly different pattern than Hermione had been taught, back during the war, and remained concentrated until Malfoy sealed the Vow with his vocal acceptance.

 _So this is my first Unbreakable Vow_ , Hermione thought as she witnessed the magic bond sink into her and Malfoy's skin with a hot sizzle. Her skin felt scorched but even a close examination didn't show any burns. _Curious_. She'd have to do some research on it.

Malfoy still held her hand and stared down on it. His thumb ghosted over a part where the magic had touched her skin but he swiftly pulled back when he noticed Hermione's look. No big surprise that his face was flushed when he was so warm. Maybe he had a fever, or maybe it was a side-effect of the curse he was under. Either way, she would figure it out. She flexed her hand to relieve the tingle his touch had left.

Narcissa looked torn between satisfaction and contempt. "I will withdraw to my rooms now and you should begin working on the documents. Good luck with finding something."

Hermione wasn't sure if anything was expected from her, so she stayed silent and listened only with half an ear as Malfoy bid his mother a good night. A few steps brought the brown-haired woman to the desk with the documents. The Dark Magic was more intense now and she waved her wand to find the exact position. Not every item was Dark, and even the ones that were only had a small signature of it, but all emanated a bit different type of magic. It felt old and stubborn, and at the same time complex and hard to unravel. She hadn't felt anything like that ever before and looked askance at Malfoy. "Most of the magic feels odd."

"Family magic. You feel the magic properties of the Malfoy blood, I suppose."

"It feels hard-headed and resilient. Malfoy traits, I assume?" Hermione bit her lips to avoid an outright grin at the poorly hidden jab, her earlier worry about the Dark Magic and the Vow put aside until she would have time to mull that over.

His lips twitched in return. "You won't get anywhere without determination and perseverance. It's probably advisable if I touch everything before you do. Most things will be sealed by blood magic."

"Like the trunk at Gringotts'? I saw the blood on the crest there."

"Simpler, but yeah. Might bleed me dry with all the different scrolls and books, though." He laughed at her scrunched face. The sound was more pleasant that she'd expected. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little blood."

"I'm not! But you said something about bleeding you dry, and considering that a human adult has about six litres of blood—"

"Oh Salazar," he half-moaned, half-laughed.

She was nearly tempted to stick her tongue out at him. "We should start with your symptoms first, anyway. It might help narrowing down the possible solutions. And I can consult the library at the Ministry."

He looked at her sharply. "You can't tell Potter about it."

"I know!" She shook her wrist at him. "My short-term memory works very well, Malfoy. I do remember what type of Vow I just agreed to."

"Then how will you explain?"

"I'm a curse-breaker, and Gringotts pays a hefty fee so I can use the Ministry library. I always can say I'm educating myself." She shrugged. Not like nobody wouldn't expect that anyway.

"I guess that's right. Okay, where do you want to start?"

She glanced at the desk, and took out her notebook and a pen. "Can you clear a corner for me?"

"Sure." He moved a couple of books out of the way and then he levitated the drinks on the table.

Opening her notebook, she went through the mental list of questions she'd compiled during the day. "When did you notice them for the first time?"

"Two days ago, June Fifth. My birthday. Why don't you use a self-inking quill instead of that..." He gestured to her pen.

"Hm? Oh, the feathers get caught in my long hair a lot. I prefer pens for writing. Were your... protrusions simply there when you woke up?"

"They definitely were there when I soaped myself up in the shower."

"Uh-huh. What did you do then?"

"I panicked?"

"Did they grow when you panicked?"

"Granger, how the bloody hell should I know? I just felt those... things on my sides and rushed for a mirror and cast like twenty _Finite Incantatem_ on myself. And when that didn't work, I brushed my bloody teeth, had breakfast, and checked the library."

"Right." She looked down on the paper. "So, today was the first time they were... uh, properly elongated?"

He looked at her strangely. "I guess so. I don't know. They just... came out. I don't know if they'll get any longer than that."

Hermione brought the end of her pen to her lips. "You've been arguing, correct?"

"Yes."

"About?"

"None of your business."

"Malfoy," she started with warning in her voice, tapping the pen on the note book now.

"It was something familial, alright? It's not important. It was just an argument." Annoyance tinted his words.

"One that obviously upset you enough to start... whatever it is." _Influenced by emotional distress?_ she wrote down.

"Any other incidents?"

"Granger, I'm only the third day in. It's not like I have a lot of experience with it."

Her eyes moved from the tense muscles in his jaw up to his forehead. "What about the horns?"

"They grew, too."

"But you don't have permanent signs that they are there somewhere. Not like the tentacles."

"I. Don't. Have. Tentacles." He snarled. She was wondering if she could upset him enough to make him grown them.

"Sure you do," she answered offhandedly.

"I don't have any bloody suction pads!"

"How about hooves? Do you turn your feet into hooves, as well?" She tried to colour her voice with innocence.

"What?!"

She noticed small spots of blood on his shirt. That went better than she thought. "Oh, in Muggle literature, the Devil is always depicted with hooves. And a tail. Horns, too, of course. Gosh, and I almost forgot the claws."

His eyes were small slits. "Are you comparing me to the Devil?"

"Oh, don't take it personally. I'm just collecting facts." That was the last straw because now his shirt burst at the seams and the tentacles—she relished that word in her mind—writhed out. "Here they are," she said with a smug grin.

"You just didn't!" he yelled.

"Do you remember that picture of Medusa you'd painted back in second year? With my face? That's how you look like right now. Minus the face, obviously." She couldn't suppress the triumph in her voice but leaned back and grabbed her wand when a few appendages slithered closer.

"You little bitch—" he started but she interrupted him.

"Can you control the movements?" She switched into full research-mode in the blink of an eye, and what was better than doing a little experimentation on Malfoy?

"I can't even bloody distinguish between my hands and the ten— the appendages!"

"Come on, give it a try."

"Bossy." Too bad that that growl came from Malfoy. She might've liked it even more otherwise. She even liked how his pointy chin looked more pronounced with his facial muscles tensed.

She shrugged. "Merlin, just try!"

He leaned forward to give the things on his back more room. His brows furrowed in concentration as he first opened and closed both of his fists and then jerked all of his right appendages towards her.

Hermione shrieked. "Whoa, easy there!"

"It's not like I know what I'm doing here!"

"That's nothing new then."

"Merlin's balls, Granger, if you don't stop antagonising me right now—"

"What, will you grow horns again?" She just couldn't hold back her delight anymore when, in fact, he did, and wrote her observations down as fast as she could.

Malfoy was a writhing mass of appendages. She tried to count them; five on each side, coloured a dark, scaly grey, with varying length and girth. She'd have to remember to bring measuring tape next time to get more details. His horns were darker, a bit curved, and roughly as long as her hand was. A quick glance at his feet confirmed that he didn't grow hooves—a bit of a pity, really—and he didn't seem to be sitting on a tail neither.

She examined him from his toes to his crown and finally realised that something wasn't right at all. He was panting hard and sweat ran down his face and torso, mixing with the blood from his broken skin. Instant guilt washed over her. He was in pain and she was making fun of him. She rummaged in her bag, muttering a colourful curse when she couldn't find the pain potion she always carried with her right away. Finally, she felt the vial between her fingers and pulled out the stopper as fast as she could. Adding a slug to his tea, she gestured to his cup and said, "Pain potion. Drink up."

He eyed her critically, and reached his arm out, not without tangling two of his appendices in her hair.

"Malfoy!" She squawked and held onto his additional limbs.

"Not like I'm doing it on purpose, Granger!"

They felt warm and smooth, and she couldn't resist stroking her hand up and down a few times until the sharp clink of Malfoy's tea cup on the saucer let her falter.

"Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to—"

"Just sensitive." He pressed out, words blurring together. She pulled her hand away, and her palm felt a bit funny, but besides only a very small residue of blood, she couldn't detect anything that would explain the lingering warmth. Then his appendages pulled on her hair and she quickly formed a fist around the part of her hair he was tangled in, tilting her upper body and head towards him.

"Ow!" She whined.

"Serves you right for provoking me like that, Granger."

For a second she wished the pain potion wasn't so potent. "You better learn fast how to steer those things."

"Bloody hell, I'm happy that I can locate my arms as it is."

"Alright then," she said with determination in her voice and grabbed one tentacle.

He inhaled sharply. "You really shouldn't—"

"Do you feel which one I'm touching right now?" She clutched it harder when he didn't answer for a moment, and continued to speak when he nodded with a glare. "Try to... I don't know, move the muscles of it or something."

" _Move the muscles or something_ , she says," he muttered. "Bloody fantastic idea. _Brightest witch_ my arse."

She fastened her grip.

"Fuck, Granger, that hurt!"

"Sorry." She loosened her hand a little and watched how coils of muscles started to work until the limb retracted. "Very good. Now the other one." When her hair was free of Malfoy, she slumped back in her chair. "Do you want to practise or do you want to start researching?"

He gulped and for the first time on this evening, Hermione sensed uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't really plan on having those things for a long time."

"I know. But it might take longer until we find something. Especially since it seems that your family was very tight-lipped about everything. Not just the... tentacles. It might come in handy for you to have full control as soon as possible. Maybe even be able to control when they appear." She felt a flare of pity as she watched him in all his tangly glory.

After a couple of deep breaths, he said, "Let's practise then."

She hesitated. "Are you ok with me touching you?"

"Not like I have that much of a choice, right?"

Hermione recoiled and answered coolly, "We can ask your mum."

"It's fine, Granger. You are fine. I don't mind you touching me."

"All right. I will take each of your tenta— appendages and you'll pull them out of my hand. Okay?" She got up from her chair and walked to his right. He nodded.

* * *

 **There were a few issues with ffn last night, so it took me a bit to update here. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!**

 **Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	3. New Challenges

**Things get more interesting. And the story starts to earn its rating (slowly but surely ;) ). This was planned as PWP, after all.**

 **Thank you all for your kind comments! They truly are a great source for inspiration, and I love reading them 3.**

 **A big thank you to LittleMissEighty-Sixed for her helpful input, and to Riptide and Kyonomiko for their fantastic work as alpha and beta readers. I'm so happy to have your help! 3**

 **This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

ooOoOoOoo

By ten, they had just finished the second round of 'pull Draco's lengths out of Granger's grabby hands.'

By ten, he was sweating so badly that it ran in streams down his body.

By ten, he was so bloody turned on that he only wanted to bend Granger over and fuck her into the desk for at least three hours.

Sweet, little Granger, who looked at him in concern when he couldn't stifle another moan and never looked between his legs. Thank Merlin for little mercies.

He'd have the wank of his life later.

"You look very exhausted. We should call it a night."

"Yeah, I'm really tired now. And Potter expects your floo call."

"Not until eleven."

"See, I told you you had a curfew." He winked at her.

 _Bloody hell_ , his whole life he hadn't winked at Granger, not even thought about it. She blushed a bit, though, and he found that he liked it.

"It'll take me a few days to look some things up, and you could disenchant those documents until then."

"That's not how the magic works. I'll need a bit of your blood."

"What?!"

He shrugged. It wasn't every day that a stranger, and a Muggleborn at that, got access to private Malfoy scrolls. More likely, it was the first time in family history. "It's old magic, Granger. Not evil, per se, just very protective. Look at it like this: You'll get to learn some very secretive pure-blood magic here. You'd normally have to marry into a pure-blood family to even get a glimpse of it. Except maybe for the Weasleys, but I'm not sure about their magic." He barked a laugh at her horrified face, and to his relief, the tightness in his trousers eased with all the talk of spreading blood on paper.

"How much... I mean, how much will you need?"

"How much are you willing to give to satisfy your thirst of knowledge? That's much more interesting, I think." He leaned forward and captured her brown eyes in his. They weren't as dull as he'd have expected during all those years of his distorted childhood, but with lighter, honeyed highlights and a dark rim that imparted depths which he suddenly was very eager to explore.

She narrowed them. "How important is it for you to get rid of your tentacles?"

He scoffed. "They're not tentacles! It's a win-win, for both of us, isn't it? And I don't expect you to give more than I'm willing to give in return." After a few seconds, he broke eye-contact and sighed. "Not much. Just very little, but for each item since we really don't know what exactly we're looking for, and you need to be able to touch them all."

"Why are we concentrating all of our efforts on that, anyway? Not that I don't appreciate working in this wonderful library, but why not look for spells and hexes? Somebody might've hit you without you noticing it."

He winced. He'd expected that question, and he knew that Granger would be nagging until she knew it. "Mother told me about an... ah, incident where she saw a member of my family with those..." He pointed at his appendages.

"Your father?"

"No."

"Then who? Male or female?"

"My grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. Now let it go."

She hummed and scribbled something into her notebook. "Alright, I'll need a few days to check some books in the Ministry. How about meeting in a week?"

He didn't want to wait for a week. "How about Saturday? You could come over for tea and scones, and we'll compare what we've found."

Tea was good. Tea was non-committal. And above all, tea definitely wasn't a date.

Bugger.

"Yes, that should be okay. We can keep each other updated by owl if necessary."

"Alright. I'll bring you to the floo." He caught a whiff of her shampoo when he opened the door to the hallway for her. The coconut scent made him think of dessert, just that he imagined eating it off her breasts. He wondered if her nipples were as responsive as he hoped they were. _Congratulations, you idiot. You just managed to get hard again._ He tried to not walk funny, but then again, he'd just blame the things out of his back.

"It's impressive, how long you can keep it up."

 _She didn't just say that._

At his incredulous look she turned beet-red and stammered. " _That's_ not what I meant. I just wanted to say that—"

He leaned down to her ear, his breath whispering over her curls. "But you're right, anyway. It _is_ impressive." Before she could answer, he grabbed a fistful of floo powder and shouted into the fire-place, "Granger's flat!" He shoved her through and then leaned with stretched arms on the rim of the fireplace mantel. His chin dropped onto his chest.

What the bloody hell had he been thrown into?

"How did it go?"

His mother's voice made him sigh. There went his plan to take care of his raging hard-on. "We didn't get that far, actually." _Unfortunately_ , he replaced in his mind. "Just some exercises to strengthen my control over those— She'll be back for tea on Saturday."

"I'll have the elves take care of that. What are you going to do until then?"

"Start reading anything by and about grandfather Abraxas, I guess. By the way, do you know of a spell to unlock all the documents for her at once? I really don't want to repeat the same words a couple of hundred times over and over again."

"Besides marrying her, which is completely out of the question? I think there is, but I have to read on it. I seem to remember that the incantation was close to the one cursing the blood of a foe."

He bristled a bit at her words, and his retracting appendages halted when his anger started to bubble up again, even if he couldn't quite categorise that curious pursing of her lips. "Nobody said anything about getting married! Besides, her blood status doesn't mean anything to me. I grew up, you know?"

"It's just hard for me, Draco." She pleaded. "It's different when I associate with Mu—ggleborns on neutral ground. But in our home? Having her going through our legacy, pulling everything apart and asunder? Maybe I should pay a visit to our estate in Provence for a few weeks."

He pulled her in for a hug. "Maybe you should if that makes it easier for you. I'll owl you."

She squeezed him. "I'll leave tomorrow, then, after I've retrieved that spell."

ooOoOoOoo

It'd been a while since Hermione had been excited about a challenge. Working at Gringotts had its advantages with all the cursed objects wizarding folk had in their vaults—or tried to bring in—and the research that went with them, but it wasn't often that the curses were presumably that old and complex. Usually, it was a bit of blood magic and a lot of stupidity instead of skill and ingenuity. Most of the hexes didn't even have more than _one_ layer. Her day-to-day job was a bit of a bore, to be honest.

Come in Draco Malfoy. She'd seen him a few times at Gringotts, even had to check him for Dark Artifacts every now and then, but that day had been the first where they'd actually interacted beyond a functional "Granger" and "Malfoy."

And the turn of events was very intriguing. The years after the war had mellowed her hatred for everything Malfoy down until it was only a simmering dislike. And even that was simmering on very low heat after this evening, after she'd seen the pain that his curse brought. In all honesty, she suspected that it wasn't real dislike anymore. Sometimes she didn't like her own compassion for the misfortunate.

She switched on the additional light over the bathroom mirror and examined the palms of her hands again. They were still warm-ish. Considering that she'd scourgified her hands at the manor and washed them twice since she got home, it had to be either a long-lasting substance on his appendages or her very vivid imagination. She was tempted to blame the latter. In fact, seeing Malfoy sweating and moaning in his shredded shirt had caused her to start to perspire, too, not to mention how smooth and hot his tentacles had felt in her hands. Just like a certain part of the male anatomy that she hadn't felt in quite a while.

She pulled the nightshirt over her head and inspected her upper body. The scar from Dolohov's curse was a considerable white line leading from the top of left her breast across the arch of the supple flesh to the lowest rib on the other side of her torso. On some days, she wished her and her friends' healing abilities would've been better, back then. She wondered if it would've made any difference, at all, or if the Death Eater's magic would've prevented traceless healing anyway. She wondered if Snape had been able to fully heal Harry's _Sectumsempra_ on Malfoy, or if he carried the same live-long markings as she.

Her nipples puckered in the draft from the open bathroom door and she cupped her breasts with her hands. She bit her lower lip the same time she pinched and pulled her nipples, and moaned when the warmth of her palms lingered on the trail where she moved them over her chest. Her skin prickled, and the sensation shot between her legs. Making up her mind, she picked up her nightshirt, and took her knickers off on the way to her bed. She threw both on her mattress and grabbed her magic-attuned vibrator from the drawer of the nightstand.

Getting comfortable on her queen size bed, her head fell back on the pillow and her legs opened. At that point, she was already so wet that the softly vibrating silicone slid into her without much effort.

* * *

 **"That's not how the magic works." is a reference to The Force Awakens of the Star Wars franchise. I couldn't resist.**

 **The next chapter is edited heavily at the moment, and I hope I'll be able to put it out there a bit sooner than this one :). Thank you all for reading and commenting 3!**

 **Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	4. Losing Control

**I'm always super happy when I get a notification about a new comment and kudos, so here's a big thank you to all of you who took your time to do that! 3**

 **I'd like to thank Kyonomiko and Riptide for their tireless work as alpha and beta readers for this story. Your help is invaluable 3!**

 **A special thank you goes to LightOfEvolution who was so kind to translate my made-up spell into Latin. You did a fantastic job, dear! 3**

 **I've had a drawing from Panda-Cappuciono commissioned for this chapter, but unfortunately, FFN won't let me show or link it directly. Please go to the respective chapter on AO3 to have a look ( archive ( ) ofour ( ) own.()o rg. ( ) works / 12470444 /chapters /31281147) (remove brackets and spaces for the link to work, sorry that it looks so messed up).**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

ooOoOoOoo

Draco panted into the steam of the shower. He carefully relaxed the muscles in his appendages curled around his nipples and watched the overhead stream of water wash away the white-ish remains of his come on the walls and his hand. He pumped his fist a few more times, relishing the sensitivity in his post-bliss, and then switched the tap off.

All his attempts to conjure the vague picture of his last liaison had been rendered useless by Granger's face. He still remembered the feel of her hair on his extra limbs, how she'd stroked him with varying strength and speed. He'd come so hard at the mental image of him stuffing her mouth full of his cock, leaving her speechless for once, it wasn't even funny.

His libido had been on overdrive the past few days, but until he found a way to control the bloody things on his back, he didn't dare go to the next bar and pick up a willing witch. Or a willing Muggle, for that matter. Not that it had been easy for him picking anybody up since the war, to be quite honest.

No, the Malfoy name was still not pristine, and since Astoria and he'd broken up two years ago, he'd got the strong impression that it was either about the Dark Mark or the gold in the vault. And if a shag meant paying for it, he'd rather visit a discreet establishment in Knockturn Alley, spend some galleons for the service of his choice, and not deal with the potential aftermath. But with his latest acquisition? He really didn't want to go out and simply imperio somebody to have sex with him.

His constant horniness still had an advantage, though. He could train with his appendages to his full heart's content. And he was proud to say that he got better and better with them; they even didn't hurt or leave all that damned blood anymore.

A quick spell dried his hair and body, and he watched in satisfaction how his appendages withdrew while he got dressed. He should be good for tea with Granger now. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was already five to two and she was anything if not punctual.

He closed the door to his rooms after him and walked swiftly the steps down to the foyer where Wompy apparated with her.

"Hello Granger," he greeted her.

She undid her robes and revealed a red halter top combined with blue jeans and a golden belt. He grinned. If she needed support by wearing her House colours, she could have it.

"Hey Malfoy. Did you find anything?"

"Oh, thank you so much for asking. I'm doing fine. How are you? Work treating you all right?" He let the sarcasm bleed into his voice.

She turned red and pushed a few curly strands behind her ear. "Sorry about that. I'm fine, thanks. You?"

"Same. Come on, I know you want to dive right back into it."

He could see how she smothered an eager grin. They followed the hallway down to the library where the tea was already on the desk with the documents he'd already sorted by age, and a small side table surrounded by more furniture with the scones arranged on an old china étagère.

Granger looked between the tea and the scones, and nodded. "No crumbs on old parchment."

"Of course not, just imagine the portraits' outrage about grease stains on their writing. The water repellent spell was a must, though. I shan't be parched in my own house. How do you take your tea?"

"No sugar, but a lot of milk."

He screw up his face. "No sugar at all?" He prepared her tea and passed the thin-walled cup.

"No sugar at all." She confirmed and smiled into her cup. "But a _lot_ of milk. Did you get anywhere with your search?"

He eyed the two lumps of sugar dropping into the amber liquid in his cup, then added another one. He'd probably do with a little boost of energy. "Yeah, kind of. I started with grandfather's stuff, went through some of his notes and also the patents he'd filed back then. Some of his work is still used in subsidiaries of our company. Like a spell to distinguish between natural and artificial diamonds."

"You trade diamonds." She didn't even sound surprised.

"Among other activities, yes."

She hummed and took a sip of her milky tea. "And what did you find?"

"Let me clear the documents so you can actually touch them."

"Right. Is my palm ok?"

"Yes, I won't need much. My mother knew a handy spell to circumvent disenchanting each and every item." He made a small incision with his wand and let three drops fall onto the hawthorn shaft of his wand. Granger's eyes widened as she watched his precise movements. " _Protege sanguinem Malfoi et huic sanguine adiunge._ "

He'd hoped for a bit of spectacle, to be honest, maybe a flash of light or ominous thunder, but it was rather anticlimactic. The parchment rustled a little, and his wand warmed up, but all that remained was the dried blood. He eyed it sceptically. "Do you think I can scourgify my own wand?"

Granger shrugged her shoulders. "I've never tried that. I clean it the Muggle way, if necessary. I rather not drop it in the dirt."

He shot her a sullen look and mumbled a cleansing spell. It seemed to work, or at least well enough, because he couldn't detect any more of that rusty red.

Pushing a yellowed note towards her, he pointed out what he meant. "He worked on a potion for several years, according to these research summaries. He didn't state what he wanted to use it for, but the list of ingredients sounds like it was a muscle relaxant and anaesthetic. At least partly because other ingredients hint more at a calming draught or an enhancer for mental activity. It makes sense, somehow, because it hurts to grow those things, it happens when I'm upset, and it takes a lot of concentration to direct fourteen appendages."

"Fifteen."

"What?" he asked

"What?"

"Why did you say fifteen?"

She stayed silent but averted her eyes. He watched a flush emerging on her cheeks, and then he felt his ears heat up when the penny dropped. "Did you really just make a bad sexual joke?"

"So what? I'm an adult. And just because you blokes do it all the time doesn't mean I can't." Sounding a tad petulant, she crossed her arms across her chest which lifted her breasts and let them strain against the upper edge of her top. He felt his collar closing in on his throat.

"I was just surprised. That's all, Granger," he said with strangled mischief in his voice. "Good to know that I don't have to hold back."

"Right," she retorted, and it definitely sound more like a _Yeah, right_. She wouldn't even know what had hit her when he was finished, he promised himself.

"I might find more in the company safe where we have all patent- and publish-worthy stuff. I'll have a look on Monday."

"Good idea. Did you grandfather write a notebook?"

"He did." He levitated a stash of leather-bound journals to her. "Have fun with them."

She opened one and then let her head almost fall onto it. "Oh no!" She groaned.

"Oh yehees," he sing-songed.

"But that's all written in Runes. Celtic ones!"

"I know!" He grinned. "That's why _you_ get them."

"Malfoy!"

He batted his eyelashes at her and observed with glee how the pink returned to her face. "Scones, dear?" He sobered up a bit before she could shoot lightning from her eyes, or even worse, from her wand. "We'll split that. I'm no monster, after all." Her raised eyebrow in answer did annoy him the tiniest bit.

"I should duplicate my part, then, and take some of the work back home."

Draco shook his head. "It's not working."

"What do you mean, 'it's not working?'"

"I had the same idea. You can't duplicate any of those documents."

Of course, she wouldn't believe him. She drew her wand and spoke the spell only to see it fizzle out when it reached the journals. A repetition gave the same result, and he quirked his eyebrow. "Go ahead, try it another ten times before you believe me."

She glared at him and pocketed her wand. "All right, I believe you."

"Can I have that in writing? With date and signature?"

"Don't goad me, Malfoy."

"It's fun, Granger," he said with a fat grin, and looked her square in her eyes. "You get all riled up, with flushed face, and sparks in your big brown eyes, and even your hair gets frizzy. It's... amusing." _Turning me on_ , he wanted to say.

"I'm here to work, not for your amusement."

"One doesn't have to exclude the other, Granger."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

He jerked his right hand to his heart, trying his best for a most theatrical impression. "You wound me, fair lady!"

"Whatever, Malfoy. You're such a drama queen." She clenched her jaws. "Sit your egocentric bum down and let's get to work. I have a dinner date tonight."

That made him focus. He glared at her, not quite sure if it was because she'd called him a drama queen or because she'd cut her stay short and rather go on a date, and grabbed the second one of Abraxas' journals.

A couple of minutes later, Granger cleared her throat and looked up. "When was your grandpa born?"

"Nineteen-oh-eight, I think. Why?"

"Just trying to figure out if he got his tentacles on his twenty-fifth birthday, as well."

"They aren't tentacles! Did you find something?" He couldn't stifle his excitement, no matter how annoying he found her repeated use of the T-word.

"No, not yet. His rune-drawing was a bit sloppy. I'm still getting used to it."

"No Malfoy has ever been accused of a sloppy handwriting, Granger."

"There's a first time for everything, isn't there, Malfoy?" She tried to quell her smile with a nibble on her lower lip, but that only made his pulse rise. He already felt his blood rushing south, and the skin over his protrusions strain at the thought of those teeth nibbling on his body instead. Getting a bit desperate about his treacherous body, he tried his best to concentrate on the symbols in the book in front of him.

They worked in silence for at least an hour, the quiet only interspersed by a creaking chair when one of them straightened their backs, or the occasional huff from Granger when she tried to make sense out of the runes. He caught himself observing her a few times. She would push her thick hair behind her ear or tap her pen against her lips while she stared above his head and at the many shelves in the room. He'd once almost had a heart attack when she sucked on the back of her pen with her tongue peeking out a bit. Ridiculous how an action so innocent gave him a class-A erection. He felt fifteen again with all the lust swimming through his veins, sure that his appendages would break out at any second.

"I need a break and something sweet," he announced.

Granger looked up and rolled her head from one side to the other. "Scones?"

He nodded and jerked his chin to the small table surrounded by a couch and two armchairs to indicate a change of place. She got up and smoothed her clothes with a slow stroke of both hands from the sides of her breasts to her thighs. He wasn't perfectly sure but he couldn't really remember that any other woman trying to flatten wrinkles in their clothes had ever looked so bloody tempting. Remembering his manners after he stalked stiffly—haha, what a brilliant pun—to the side table, he poured her another cup of tea, added a lot of milk, and held the étagère with the scones for her to choose one. Her smile made his stomach flip, and he distracted himself by pointing at the jams. "Strawberry and apricot, and clotted cream. Or if you'd like anything else, just let me know."

She gave him an undecipherable look and her face turned a hint of pink. It made him a bit uncomfortable not knowing the reason, and wondered if she'd noticed his throbbing cock and if covering it with a plate was too obvious. Hoping to sidetrack her mind from wherever it was he asked, "Have you been to the Ministry library yet?"

She swallowed her bite down and brushed the few crumbs on her lips off with her fingers. Screw napkins, this looked much better. "Yes. I borrowed a couple of books but I haven't seen anything that really fits. Most deal with witch-burnings during the late medievals and were fabricated cases anyway. We all know there's no such thing as Satan."

He hummed in confirmation. "I think I need a first lead what I'm dealing with to narrow the search down."

"We," she retorted.

"What?"

"We. You and I. I'm helping you, remember?"

The corners of his mouth twisted up. "Yeah. We." She smiled back and there was this funny feeling in his stomach again.

"I like the tea. What kind of blend is it?"

"Mother's favourite flavour of the month. I can owl her if you want to."

"Where is she?"

"France. She'll be there for a couple of weeks. We have the whole manor to ourselves. And the greenhouses. _And_ the garden." He flashed her a cheeky grin.

"And pray tell, what do you think we'd do with that much freedom?" She leaned forward on her armchair, looped a curl around her index, and licked her lips. He couldn't decide between looking at her lips and her tempting cleavage, so he did both.

"Anything you want, Granger," he said breathlessly, feeling his appendages break free from their confinement. Thank Merlin that his cock couldn't do that otherwise it would practically jump into her face. The fact that her nipples hardened under his stare didn't help one bit.

"Something's wrong here," she panted.

"The only thing wrong here is the amount of clothing on us." He growled, and stood up, not even bothering with trying to hide the bulge in his trousers.

"No. Yes. Malfoy—" She looked up at him, pupils dilated, as he loomed over her.

He bent over her and cupped her face in his hands. Her skin was damp with perspiration, and a bit cooler than his own. He took in her freckled nose, the pronounced cupid's bow of her lips, and the dark lashes framing her eyes. Her breath fanned over his lips, just a hair's breadth apart from his, and her eyes closed halfway when he slid his nose against the side of hers. He lost all restraint when the tip of her tongue traced his lips. Opening his mouth, he met her tongue in a hungry kiss, burying one hand in her hair and clutching the other one between her shoulders to press her against him.

Granger moaned into his mouth, and he had to focus on his appendages to not knock everything over. He deepened their kiss and tentatively wrapped one of his extra limbs around her waist, pulling her onto her feet and closer to his level without breaking their connection. The three that followed his hand into her hair probably would never get untangled again, but he didn't care. He'd happily be connected to her forever if it meant that she'd keep pressing her pretty self against him.

She was soft, all supple flesh and untameable hair and irresistible scent. He shuddered when her hands on his shoulders gripped him with insistence and pulled him even more into her. Their kiss was overwhelming; it was all he'd hoped for and more than he'd expected from a first kiss. At the same time, it was perfect. His mouth moved over her jaw to her neck, sucking at her pulse point and tasting the trace of salt on her skin. He mentally congratulated himself when he felt her knees give in a little, and placed another love-bite on the soft spot below her ear.

She pushed him back to gain access to his neck, and licked a small stripe from his clavicle to his Adam's apple, her arms wrapping around his shoulders once again. Their weight was something he'd love to get used to. He whined when she bit the side of his throat gently, the pleasure of feeling her on his skin rushing directly to his cock. He moved his hand from her back to his trousers, palming his dick through the cloth. Two of his extra limbs slithered up her sides and brushed over her breasts. She keened and rocked her hips against his groin.

"You're so hot, Malfoy," she said, her words interrupted by the kisses she placed on his collarbone.

"You're not so bad yourself. And call me Draco, _Hermione_." He chuckled when she bit him a little harder. He encased her tits with spirals of his appendages and squeezed. They felt nice and full and just the right size to be worshipped.

"Draco, that's not what—Ohmigod, do that again," she stammered when he massaged her breasts, flicking the end of one limb against one of her hard nubs. "—what I meant. You're positively burning."

"That's all your fault, witch." He moved the hand from between his legs onto her arse, curled his two bottom appendages around her thighs and hoisted her up until he felt the heat of her core on his own. It was astonishing how easily his body did what he wanted when he just pictured it clearly. "You make me hot like that." He gasped for air when she started to grind against his cock. She tightened her arms around him and kissed him hard.

The gust of ice cold air hit him unexpectedly, and he jerked back from her in shock and let her fall back onto her feet. "Fuck, Granger! What the bloody fuck? That was cold!"

She grabbed onto his shoulders to keep herself steady and trailed her fingers down his chest before she snatched her hand back. The other hand held her wand which she pointed at his neck now. He swallowed nervously and tried to get rid of the remnants of that lusty fuzz in his mind. As far as he had been able to tell, it had been consensual but if he was wrong, he needed to apologise, and soon.

Draco's appendages flapped helplessly around him as he searched for the right words.

"You've a thirty-nine point nine fever." Hermione said incredulously after a glance at the number that emerged in front of his face. She glared at him. "Why didn't you just owl and tell me you're ill?"

"I don't feel ill—"

"And how was my Ice Wind spell so powerful? It shouldn't be that much colder than an enhanced cooling charm, even with the added alteration. I must've channelled much too much magic. Crap. That happened last time when I broke up with Ron." She murmured to herself, completely ignoring him. She turned to the desk where all their notes were haphazardly strewn across the surface.

He lunged and grabbed her wrist, bringing her back in front of him. "Granger." When she fixed her stare on his collar, he put two fingers under her chin and tilted her head back so she would look into his eyes. "Hermione, are you ok? I kind of lost control and—"

Strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead and neck, her brown irises still heated with arousal, and she took fast and shallow breaths. She looked utterly fuckable, and his dick began to overrule his brain again. "I think you should cast another Ice Wind," he groaned out and took a step back, losing all physical connection to her. Seconds later, instant coolness flushed over him, helping to temper himself down.

"It's still far too cold. It's not supposed to be that icy!"

"Just perfect, Granger. I needed that. Might need a few more."

"But I'm not supposed to lose control over my magic like that! I might hurt somebody next time!" she shouted. "I'm telling you, something's off here."

A sarcastic bark dripped off Draco's lips and he spread his arms and appendages wide so that they surrounded him like sun rays on a child's drawing. "You think?"

* * *

 **The spell _Protege sanguinem Malfoi et huic sanguine adiunge_ translates as _Protect the blood Malfoi and add this blood [to the protection]_.**

 **Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	5. Research

**Hermione and Draco continue their research. Also, Draco has some me-time ;).**

 **I'm very much blown away by the wonderful comments my little story got so far! Thank you so much for not only taking your time reading it but also commenting and leaving favourites and following it! Each and every one is highly appreciated and a great motivator to keep writing 3. I try to answer all of your reviews, and if you comment as a guest, please consider signing in, so I can thank you personally :).**

 **A big thank you t** **o Kyonomiko for her helpful input, and to Riptide fo** **r his never-ending patience beta-reading and correcting my story. I'm a truly lucky woman to have your help! 3**

 **This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

ooOoOoOoo

Hermione rubbed her temples with the fingers of both hands in hopes of clearing her irritation away. And that damned arousal which wouldn't leave her alone, as well. She still had half a notion to simply jump him and have her wicked way with him, if it weren't for the peculiar feeling that she got when she looked at him. That warm buzz deep inside of her which had developed into a loud and pleased hum during their unscheduled snogging session. She'd been in love before, and she'd been in lust before, but this was nothing like either of them.

She wouldn't deny it to herself anymore that there wasn't any attraction she felt towards him. If anything, the hard orgasms she'd had in the past few days with the thought of his white-blond head between her thighs spoke volumes. She felt exactly as sticky right now, after she'd interrupted what she could only call foreplay so roughly, but a lot less satisfied.

Her eyes roamed over his toned body, thanking Merlin and whoever might be listening for his arrogant sneer which took a lot of his handsomeness away. Unfortunately, his excellent physique was very tempting, his stretched out arms and his chest only half-covered by his shirt—she idly wondered how many shirts he'd shredded since his birthday—showing lean but defined muscles she wanted to run her lips over and over again.

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. "You've got me under some sort of thrall. I'm not behaving like myself, and my magic is enhanced."

" _I_ 've got _you_ under a thrall?! It's the other way around! Bloody hell, I hardly think about anything else but you." He dragged his hand over his face, lingering over his mouth.

"It must be some love spell or potion or..." She focused on his tentacles. "Maybe it has something to do with your condition." She moved to the desk and opened a new page of her note book on her way back to the tea table, heaping more clotted cream and apricot jam on her plate after she took a seat. "Let's assume neither of us has used a spell or potion, and it's unlikely that your mum did."

He slumped down on the other chair and looked miserable. She was sure that she looked quite ruffled, too, and she stopped her hand from reaching and trying to smooth her hair just so. Concentrating on the problem at hand instead of fantasising improper scenarios was by far more sensible. That didn't mean that she didn't want to kiss every centimetre of his skin. It just meant that she would try to postpone it a bit, until they had figured out why they were behaving so irrationally.

"Any ill will from former friends or associates?"

He grunted. "Are you seriously asking me that? Of course, there are still people who'd want me dead or at least in Azkaban. But only a few would be able to pull it off. And both love potions and spells are always designed to be in two parts. One for each party affected, so they'd have to target you, too."

"True. Not that I don't have my own enemies, but we probably don't have the same ones."

He groaned, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "Granger, can you cast again? It's hard to—"

"I can see," she snickered and looked at the still prominent bulge in his trousers. "Sorry," she apologised a split-second later and felt a rise of pink mortification again on her face, no matter how much she wanted to stare and estimate his girth through the slightly straining cloth.

" _Ventum glaciale_ ," she muttered, swirling the tip of her wand in the required five-quarters open coil and adding the flourish that would extend the spell's efficiency. A bit of the cold air cooled her face, the range of the spell showing once again that it was stronger than intended. She turned her focus back on the sheet of paper in front of her, and struck out _love potion_ and _love spell_.

"I saw your wand movement. What did you alter of the Ice Wind spell?"

"I found it in _The Crafty Witch_. It's an addition to discourage too-ardent suitors."

He raised an eyebrow. "It affects... _that_?"

"It dampens the target's ardour, yes, being most effective when combined with a cooling charm." She kept her glance glued to her pen, only letting it stray to his eyes with the last word. His cheeks were still rosy.

Malfoy grabbed his forgotten scone with one tentacle and spooned strawberry jam on it with his right hand. He took a bite and watched her thoughtfully.

"You're getting better with them." Hermione observed. He only shrugged his shoulders—making all the appendages on his sides jump—and kept on chewing.

"Right. Now that we've ruled out a spell or a potion, we basically have only your tentacles left as reason." She hid her smirk behind the tea cup when he growled at her mention of the T-word. "Which means we're back at the start."

"Yeah," he said and closed his eyes. Hermione forced herself to stay put, her empathy lighting up like a scone on petrol. She felt awkward knowing that they'd almost devoured each other just a few minutes ago, and it was good to distract her confusing emotions.

She looked at her wrist watch. "I've about an hour left before I have to go home. Let's continue with grandpa Abraxas' journals and try to find something."

He grunted again, and carried their tea cups back to the desk. Hermione blew her cheeks when her eyes fell on the runes, but sat down and started working. The feeling of his hot mouth and smooth appendages still lingered on her, ingraining itself into her memory and taking her mind off the task at hand. Which was probably the reason why she'd taken so long to notice that particular pattern among those describing Draco's ancestor's sleeping difficulties.

She went a few pages back and then a few more. There they were, nestled between complaints about the elves' cooking and praise for his wife's expert handling of the greenhouses.

Her head shot up when Malfoy cleared his throat. "I found something about the ingredients necessary for the potential potion." He leaned forward and pushed the journal he was working on towards her. Pointing at the runes which looked exactly like the ones she'd discovered, he continued, "I can't quite make sense of those runes. One is the old rune for Slytherin, but the other ones don't fit."

"I found those runes, too," she said with new-found excitement. "Look here. And on two more pages later. Do you think they are his code for the tentacles?"

"Appendages," he grit out between his teeth. "And possibly, yes." He grabbed an encyclopedia on _Common and Uncommon Runes_ , and started to leaf through it. "One of the two embracing runes might be _man_ or _fight_ , but the other one looks... crooked, for lack of a better word."

Hermione emptied her cup. "What if he fused two runes?"

"Why would he do that?"

"Why would he write all of his journals in ancient runes when they are protected by elaborate blood wards anyway?"

"You're giving me a headache here, woman." He scrunched his face until wrinkles showed on his nose. "Then the possible meanings are endless."

"I know." She sighed and copied the signs into her own notebook. "Maybe it's enough that we know what to look for. I've developed a spell to search for phrases in written works. It's for vocalised words but I think I can modify it to work with written runes."

"I'm impressed, Granger. You'll have to teach me."

Hermione smiled at the unexpected compliment, and the heat in his gaze warmed her from the inside. "Will do. In what exact context do the runes stand?"

"Grandfather listed shrivelfig, lavender, armadillo bile, and moonstone. There are no measures given, and it's one of the early notebooks, though. What do you have?"

"He mentions problems falling asleep, dinner he didn't like, and the greenhouses. He really uses too many weird runes to make much sense of that! I mean I get that your grandma grew some of the ingredients, and that it must be quite uncomfortable lying on the appendages, but the food?" When she lifted her head, she heard him murmur something and saw him fidgeting with his cup. "Pardon me?"

"Nothing."

"If it's something to do with your condition, you really should tell me," she snapped.

"It's—" He hesitated and flicked his tongue across his bottom lip. "It's not directly connected to it."

Hermione gave him a stern look, motioning with one hand to continue.

"It's not the inconvenience of lying on them. That doesn't hurt. It's the arou—the agitation. A... restlessness. That's what it is."

Hermione felt her face heat up when she thought about her own _restlessness_ in the previous few nights. She hadn't forgotten the phantom touch of his appendages on her breasts and wondered if she could squeeze in a very quick session with her silicone wonder before she had to get ready for dinner. She'd definitely need a fresh pair of pants, no matter what, but she refrained from shifting on her bottom. The increasing slickness between her thighs couldn't be helped at the moment.

Malfoy shot her an intense look and took a deep breath he held for a couple of seconds before he released it with a soft moan. His appendages fidgeted, changing girth and length every few moments if she observed correctly. "The Ice Wind, Granger. Now!"

Hermione repeated the incantation, making sure some of the spell reached her, too. Godric knew how much she needed a cool down. She looked at her wrist watch and stifled a curse. "Malfoy, will you be alright? I have to go."

He gave her a petulant glance and crossed his arms across his chest. "Sure, just leave me alone and suffering."

Hermione snorted. "You're truly a drama queen. I'll take a few of your grandpa's journals with me, if that's alright with you."

Malfoy nodded and got up. There was a small trickle of sweat running down on the side of his face. "Who are you going to go out with?"

She couldn't quite stifle her smirk at the forced casualness of his words before packing everything and making for the floo with fast steps. He followed, his long legs easily catching up with her.

"Granger, who are you going to go out with tonight?" One of his appendages curled around her waist and pulled her against his muscled chest. She smelled a hint of sweat, parchment, and strawberry jam on him, and it almost made her reconsider her evening plans. Her thumb traced his lower lip and she pressed a quick kiss with a hint of tongue to the side of his throat while she cast the last Ice Wind for the evening. They both shuddered under the sudden coldness, and his hold on her tightened for a short second until he retracted all of his limbs off her.

"Wouldn't you want to know?" she finally not-answered his question and twisted the corner of her lip in a way that would make any Malfoy proud. Grabbing some floo powder, she saw his eyes widen, and then she was off to her flat.

ooOoOoOoo

Draco looked into the fireplace, watching the green flames swallow Granger and inhaling the faint smell of lavender and aired room below the one of dust and ash; she must've left her fireplace off for quite some time then, as he couldn't smell any smoke. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noticed that detecting the smell of somebody else's home through the floo was a bit unusual but her answer had been just the right mixture of cheek and sultriness to incite his blood and make it focus on any part of him besides his brain. His right hand moved immediately down and rubbed his hard-on through the cloth of his trousers. Her body nestled against his and that beguilingly innocent kiss on his neck had been almost too much stimulation for him to finally let her go, modified Ice Wind or no.

On a rational level, he _knew_ she was right to want to figure out why they were so attracted to each other, but on a more feral level, he'd rather follow her and fuck her into the next horizontal surface available. Or a vertical one; he surely wouldn't discriminate. It was a bit disconcerting to realise that he was willing to do almost anything just to get her consent. But before he pondered his best course of action, he needed to take care of more urgent matters.

He trailed their path back into the library. If he was lucky, there was still some of her scent on the chair she'd been sitting on.

He slumped down on the edge of the one by the tea table, and turned his head to press his nose into the backrest. It smelled like Granger's shampoo, but there was more to it; something marvellous was underlying that excited him. The library's dry smell of paper and wood set the perfect frame for Granger's. Draco felt himself swell even more in his trousers, and he opened the remains of his shirt with fumbling fingers, too eager to get physically close to her scent, and rub as much of his skin on the fabric as possible. He stroked his hands down his chest before he snapped the button of his waistband open and pulled the zipper down. The coconut scent of her hair was in his nose as he pulled his stiff cock out of his boxers, and he replayed the image of her sitting in this chair hardly an hour ago. Her actions were proof that she wasn't a shy and innocent bookworm anymore. If she'd ever been one, that is.

Two of his appendages rolled themselves around his nipples and pulled them gently until he moaned. A muttered wandless spell later, and his hand was tugging on his slicked-up dick while he saw Granger lick some apricot jam from her lips in his mind. He tightened his fist, and slowed down a bit, enjoying the mental picture of those lips around his cock. She bobbed her head in sync with his fist, her brown curls all over the place, and he started to fondle his balls with his other hand. He would gather her hair in one hand, pulling it from his view. She'd love a bit of hair-pulling, making her hum around his cock. Not many things could be better than watching her red lips glisten with a mixture of her saliva and his precome, feeling the tip of her tongue run around the ridge of his head. He had half a mind to stretch his wank out; to coil one of his appendages around the base of his cock and thus deny himself his orgasm for a few more minutes.

But who was he kidding? He was so turned on that he'd been on the brink since he started to play with his own nipples. His thoughts wandered to the moment earlier when he thought he actually _smelled_ Granger's arousal and he groaned, hand moving up and down in quick succession, only interrupted by occasional swipes of his thumb over the head leaking drops of precome.

And when he inhaled the upholstery of the chair deeply enough through his mouth and nose, he could detect her excitement for him. It was a sharp scent which now centred in his brain and even more in his groin just as easily as it did before. It tingled from his balls to the head of his length, leaving a pleasant sensation behind. He wondered if she'd been as wet as he'd been hard, and if she'd like him to spread her legs with his appendages and her labia with his fingers so he could eat her out. He so hoped she would. Draco moaned and jerked faster on his cock, swiping the palm of his hand over the entirety of the head and feeling the leaking fluid change the texture of his lubrication charm. She would be absolutely soaked for him, moaning and groaning his name, and pulling his hair with clenched hands.

His climax flashed through him when he imagined his tongue buried in her cunt and feeling her contract around it, flickers of white dancing in front of his eyes while his shout sounded raw in his own ears. The majority of his seed shot in long spurts across his chest and thighs until only a trickle came out and covered his fingers with the last few tugs. He sat motionlessly for a few minutes, feeling his appendages finally recede, and then looked down at the generous amount of sticky mess. He had even managed to hit his chin.

His head fell back on the backrest and his pulse slowed down. Grabbing his wand from the holster sewn along the sleeve of his destroyed shirt, he scourgified his spend and tried to decide on his next steps

* * *

 **Phew, that was my very first male masturbation scene, and I'd love to find how you've liked it. Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	6. Scars

**Hermione and Draco are still trying to find out what's going on. They get a bit closer doing so, too ;).**

 **I'd like to express my heartfelt gratitude to all readers and especially those who take their time to leave favourites and comments! It really means a lot to me and it's very encouraging to get all that feedback 3. It makes me write more faster!**

 **A big thank you to** **Kyonomiko** **for her wonderful alpha work, and to** **Riptide** **who is always a fantastic beta-reader helping me with my writing :). Especially in this chapter, you've made so many important comments, and they definitely improved my story! 3**

 **This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

ooOoOoOoo

Draco looked up at the insistent tapping on the window which indicated the arrival of his old but trusted eagle owl. He walked to the window and let Aures in. She presented her leg and the small strip of paper which must've been Granger's answer. The witch didn't seem to be the type to perfume her correspondence, but he put the paper to his nose anyway, just not to be sure if he'd smelled anything or if it was just his imagination. He traced her seal with his fingertips before he broke it; the image of an open book with her initials was an excellent mirror of her personality.

 _Malfoy,_

 _I won't be able to make it until 8. I'll apparate to the spot outside the manor._

 _HG_

It had taken no longer than three quite frustrating days to make him cave and send her a message requesting a meeting. It certainly wasn't too early to invite her over again. They needed to stay in close contact to establish a prolific working relationship, after all. And her presence was kind of pleasant, too, not just because the last one of their meetings had provided him with so much inspiration for his lonely nights, so the proposed dinner was just a logical step.

He really didn't want to analyse too deeply why he was still making up all kind of logical explanations for his eagerness to be with her. He also didn't want to analyse why his blood started to boil when he imagined what she might've done after her departure last Saturday night.

Looking at the pile of journals across the big desk in the library and the list of possible references he'd made in the few days passed since their tea and their heated kiss, he got up and stretched his back. Those hours spent bowed over his grandfather's journals took their toll, and still, he was glad for them as they did bring a bit of light into this mess. Some of the observations he'd made himself were described in Abraxas' notes, as well, further cementing the hypothesis of the hereditary nature of his condition.

Taking the sheet with his own notes, he went to the library's section on genealogical magic. He definitely hoped Granger had been able to modify her searching charm for words in books. Growing up with the steadily extending library, he had a vague idea of what he would find where, but he couldn't remember every detail he'd ever read, and there might've been conclusive material in the rest of the documents from the Malfoy vault, too. That spell would be a significant simplification of the whole process.

He browsed through a few shelves and then settled on a distinctive rack. The titles of the stories seemed promising. _Magic and Money—How to Preserve Both_. _Heirloom through the Changing Ages_. _Keeping Your Magic Pure—You and Your Heirs_. Seeing the authors, Draco couldn't shake off a certain feeling of discomfort. He was quite sure that Granger wouldn't approve of some of those books, with the ugly blood supremacy especially the latter of them likely spewed.

Draco threw a glance back at the desk and the piles of documents still under the conservation charm. He hadn't had much time to go through them in detail, but he ordered them by type and age, leaving the familial connections disregarded for now. Sorting them by topic might have been better, though, and he put that on the mental list he wanted to discuss with Granger. Thank Salazar, the vast majority of those notes and journals were not written in ancient runes and similar dead languages requiring years of study.

"Master Draco, has you decided on dinner for the young Mistress?"

He whipped his head to the elf, not having heard her apparition at all. "Wompy, do make yourself better known in the future, will you?" Draco steadied his heartbeat, fingers relaxing their grip on his wand, but at the elf's crestfallen face, he added quickly, "I'm not angry, just surprised. How did you fare with your enquiries regarding Muggle cuisine?"

"Good, Master. Muggles fancies Italian food, especially a simple dish calls pizzazz." The elf lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone. " _Everyone_ loves it."

Draco's eyebrows twitched up at the unexpected response, but he settled for saying, "All right. Please prepare it tonight. Miss Granger has announced her arrival for eight o'clock, so I expect us to eat by eight-thirty."

"Of course, Master Draco."

Draco shook his head at the repeatedly soundless apparition of the elf, and then pulled out the books he wanted to have a look at, levitating them to the already full desk. He might have to ask Wompy to bring in another one, so they could keep the piles separate. Having another look at his notes, he chose _Heirloom through the Ages_ and marked down the chapters which seemed the most promising.

He kept filling a handful of pages in his own notebook until the set alarm went off with a chime. Relieving the tautness, especially in his arm and back muscles, felt good after prolonged times in the same position, and he shortly contemplated a change of clothes. But he didn't want to seem too keen, so he just spelled the wrinkles out of his blue shirt and grey trousers, and decided to walk the few metres to the apparition point.

The gardens were in full bloom after the rainy days had changed to warm and sunny, the air filled with floral scents and the noises of little critters. Draco admired the onset of a colourful sunset, and thought about the best way through the green to show it off to Granger. He was sure she'd appreciate the flawless efforts of his mother to shape the landscape and flowers to resemble a lush and welcoming showpiece of the new Malfoys.

He made it to the apparition point two minutes before eight o'clock, raking his fingers through his hair. His mental preparations for the evening turned out to have been for nought when he realised that he didn't even know how to greet her. Would she expect professional distance? Or would she welcome a lingering touch, maybe a soft kiss on her cheek, or even a long embrace? Draco opened the top button of his shirt and lifted it a bit off his chest to cool his warm skin. He hoped his appendages wouldn't make an appearance the second she made hers. It was embarrassing enough that Granger knew they'd grow when he was angry or the moment he couldn't see straight anymore because she aroused him beyond sanity.

His musings were disrupted by a soft _plop_ , and Granger and Wompy appeared hand-in-hand at the apparition point. He looked at his watch—one minute past eight—and then at Granger's red face.

"I'm so sorry, Mal—Draco. I don't know how that happened. I concentrated on the point here, and I ended up in your library! I apologise for the mishap. It really wasn't on purpose."

Wompy shook her hand a little and Granger let loose of her white-knuckled grip, throwing an apologetic look at the elf who winced almost indiscernibly. The witch was in a dark blue dress with a low v-neck, and he himself looked positively peasant next to her spectacular self. It was probably best to rid them both of all clothes to be on equal footing again. Slowly, of course. With a lot of tongue and nips on his part. He groaned inwardly, and wondered why he spent so much time on wanking when a little swell of sweet skin brought his libido back to high levels again, anyway. Grasping for much-needed distraction, he looked at his home through the massive entrance gates and the path leading back to it, and tried to remember the manners his mother still hadn't given up attempting to drill into him.

"Welcome back, Hermione. At least you didn't splinch yourself, if I observe correctly? I wanted to take a short stroll through the gardens with you, if you'd like to. They are magnificent around this time of the year." He lifted his arm for her to take, and stubbornly refused to lick the small gathering of sweat off his upper lip. His nerves calmed when she smiled at him, and put her hand on his arm. The matter of welcoming was settled, but definitely not as he'd have expected or maybe would've hoped for.

"Your mother's work?" Hermione flourished her arm at the scenery in front of them.

"Yes. She likes everything with colour and a nice scent. She also likes what she calls _organised wilds_ , so her aim is not only to plant flowers but to integrate them into the existing landscape of trees and paths, only changing a little each time. The basic layout of the gardens had been arranged shortly after the Malfois came to Britain, and single trees still stem back from that time. Literally. It would feel like a sacrilege to fell one of them just for aesthetic purposes."

He was rambling. Merlin, was he rambling, but for the cunning of Salazar, he couldn't make himself slow down his speaking for fear of a pause he couldn't figure out how to fill.

She hummed, and took a deep breath of air, her chest expanding and her fingers slightly curling around his arm. He liked to think she enjoyed their contact. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a pale line vanishing in her cleavage. He swallowed his dry throat away, thinking of his own scars, and lowered his glance at the forearm next to his. There was a special scar inside of it, he knew. Doubly-abhorrent because it had come from his aunt, and now here he was, feeling immeasurably attracted to somebody who would understandably rather keep her distance from him and his family.

"Do you know their names?"

Draco jerked out of his reverie and looked at her with a slightly creased forehead. They passed the fountain, the sun playing little rainbows in the drops of water.

"The flowers. Do you know their names?" She repeated with a delicate lifting of the corners of her lips.

"Apart from the simplicity of rose, tulip, dandelion? No. You'd have to talk to Mother about that. She could tell you the story of all of them, I'm sure."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Perhaps one day."

He had a sudden urge to put his arm around her shoulder. "Perhaps. I'm sure I could talk to her. She's proud of it, and you know what they say about proud Slytherins." He winked at her. "They like to talk about their accomplishments."

She laughed. "And what have you accomplished in the past few days then?"

He grinned. "You'll see after dinner."

"Where did the peacocks go?"

"So, about dinner tonight..."

"What?!" She shot him a shocked look, and he snickered.

"They _were_ always mean and bite-y—" He paused for effect, enjoying her big round eyes on him, even if it was in slight horror. "No, I gave them to the Salisbury Zoo."

She looked relieved and he was, too, largely because he didn't have to deal with the white menaces anymore.

They took the few steps up to the terrace and Draco opened the patio door for her in time with her removing her hand from his forearm.

Hermione gasped, and put her hand on his on the door handle instead. "Look!" She pointed at the setting sun, standing close enough to him that he could've kissed her if he'd have taken merely one step forward. He gave a cursory glance at the blaze of colours on the horizon, set off by the dark little forest framing a part of the gardens, then he focused back on her.

"Beautiful," he whispered, her distinct scent in his nose making him all tingly, and he settled his free hand on her hip, stroking it lightly. He wasn't really talking about the sunset. Emboldened by her content sigh, he was just about to pull her closer when the bloody elf cleared her throat. They both jumped away from each other like teenagers caught in flagrante.

"Dinner be ready to serve, Master."

"Right… Thank you." Facing Hermione, he tilted his head towards the set table, decorated with flowers and candles flickering in the breeze from the terrace, before he took her cooler hand, and led her to her place. She had a lovely rosy hue on her skin which expanded further down her neck but he refrained himself from having that kind of closer look down her neckline when he pushed the chair in for her. He wasn't sure he could hold himself back when confronted with such a delicious sight of her tits, but he did run his index from her upper arm to her shoulder. She shivered, and he felt his appendages get restless under his skin.

 _No. No, not now_ , he pleaded with his body, and prayed to Merlin that his half-hard cock wouldn't be obvious. He coughed a little to free himself of the lump in his throat, and said, "I was told this is a Muggle favourite. Wompy prepared pizzazz for us." Draco took a seat and looked expectantly at Hermione who eyed the house-elf with a squint, but then she snorted in a vain attempt to stifle her laugh.

" _Pizzazz_?"

He frowned. "Yes? Don't you like it?"

She giggled, and while he counted it as a small victory that he could make her laugh, he didn't quite like the fact that it was at his expense, and that he didn't know why.

"I do, in fact," she said, flashing him a genuine grin, still full of mirth.

"What is it, then?"

She started to laugh again. "Sorry, Draco," she threw in between gasps for air. "It's just… it's called _pizza._ Pizzazz is something completely different."

He pouted his lips, and looked at the dish Wompy had served in the meantime, adding a carafe of clear water and glasses to the table after Granger had declined the wine, and then vanishing as soundlessly as she had earlier. "Oh." He looked at the flat bread-like thing occupying his plate. "I was not aware." Fidgeting a little, he picked up his fork and poked the crust. It smelled good but it also looked like it wasn't eaten in that manner. He looked at her.

Hermione reached her hand across the table, breasts spilling dangerously against the neckline of her dress, and squeezed his free hand for a much-too-short moment. "I appreciate it, and the pizza looks fantastic. Just leave the teaching of all things Muggle to me, okay?" She started to cut across the food. " _Pizza_ is an Italian dish deriving from the poorer parts of Italy, basically serving as a cheap but filling meal. Stop looking like that. It's tasty. _Pizzazz_ means something has a certain sparkle to it. For example, you can add some pizzazz to your life by pursuing certain activities. I also know people who like to add pizzazz to their speaking by adding a lot of swear words."

He assumed the latter was true for himself, too, and looked down at his own food with a minor amount of guilt, starting to imitate her cutting pattern. His eyes almost fell out of his head when she picked up a slice with her hand. She bit into it, closing her eyes and humming around the bite.

"This is really good," she said and licked a little bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her mouth, taking another bite immediately.

"You eat it with your _hands_?!"

She swallowed and fixated him with a look. "You can use cutlery when the company is that kind of polite. But for the real experience? Eat it with your hands. Just don't burn your gum. The topping is hot."

He watched her tongue catching the bending tip of another slice before she bit a piece off. Her tongue looked nimble, and a wonderful pink, too. It would certainly star in a few fantasies tonight. He took a hasty slug of cold water and then tried eating the pizza like she did.

She'd been correct. _Of course_ she'd been. Brightest witch and all that. It had been quite some time since he'd tasted something new which was so good.

Clearing her throat, she made him look at her. "Will there be dessert?"

He almost choked on the bite he had in his mouth. Oh Merlin, _yes_. He so hoped there would be dessert.

She continued before he could swallow down, "It's good but it's also filling, and if there's cake or anything, I'll probably opt for that."

 _Oh!_ That was a bit discouraging to the plans he'd just developed in the past two seconds. Quite elaborate plans, if he might say so himself, despite the short notice.

"We usually have a piece of cake or some trifle with dinner." He wasn't quite able to keep the disappointment out of his voice, not even when her eyes lit up at his words. "But we could have that later, while we're comparing notes."

"Great." She watched him finishing his pizza, playing with her glass and taking a few sips.

He dabbed his lips on the napkin, and then got up and walked around he pull her chair out.

"You don't have to do that." She gestured at the chair.

"Mother would have my hide if I didn't."

"Ah. Well, I like your hide where it is, so we can't let that happen, can we?"

He presented his arm, and she put her hand on it. "Miss Granger, I believe you've just paid me a compliment."

"Mr Malfoy, just don't let it go to your head." She slapped him lightly on his forearm, and then moved her hand a little closer to his, stroking the skin just above the cuff with her thumb. "Shall we?"

He could only nod, too distracted by the skin-to-skin contact.

ooOoOoOoo

The library was just three doors down the hallway, and Hermione felt like a noblewoman strolling past other rooms and the paintings hanging in-between. The various inhabitants observed her curiously and much friendlier than on her first evening at the manor, giving off an air of ease in her presence. Wondering in passing what brought the unexpected change in demeanour, Hermione slapped her hand against her forehead when she realised her thoughtlessness.

"The portrait, Draco! Where is your grandpa's portrait?" She fully stopped, and forced him to halt his steps, too. "Why have I missed that? Let's just ask your grandpa's portrait." She gripped his arm tighter and bounced on the balls of her toes.

"Granger, it's— I'll show you." He kept a carefully neutral expression. "It's in a different wing, stowed away in an unused room. You'll see why."

Suddenly subdued by his lack of excitement, she agreed with a small nod and followed his lead, wandering along tastefully decorated hallways and connecting rooms after they'd reached the first floor up a broad stairway. She took in the welcoming atmosphere the whole house seemed to have adopted within a couple of days. Maybe people were right when they claimed that good food and good company turned the lowest shed into a loving home. Not that Malfoy Manor was a lowly hut, dignified and expensively decorated as it was, but it had also made a cool and unapproachable impression to her.

Malfoy finally stopped in front of a door which looked just like all the others in this part of the estate. He unlocked it with a spell and pushed the door open before he lit the magical lights in the room with a clear, " _Lumos_."

Hermione took an instinctive step back at the sight in front of her. "Is that—" she started and made a distinctive pause. "These things look like the leftovers of a rampage by vandals."

Malfoy closed his eyes for a long second and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "For a while, my family didn't have appropriate control over what was exactly happening in our home."

She made a quiet, disconcerted sound as she took in the scene. Every item in the room was meticulously placed, but each piece was a husk of its former self, as though the room had been utterly destroyed and then pieced back together by hand. It was obvious that these were items of personal interest because there was no reason to keep them otherwise. Paintings and moving pictures, books, tapestries, and the odd piece of furniture were massed in their respective heaps, each object destroyed in varying degrees.

"I think, Grandfather's portrait is somewhere in this pile," Draco said and moved to a stack of frames. He tilted two or three away from the rest, and then lifted one up. The painting was done tastefully, or at least she liked the style. But where the ancestor's mouth would've been, a square of missing canvas gaped, showing only the old wood which supported the frame.

Hermione felt pinned motionless by the appraising scrutiny of the same type of grey eyes which seemed to be a dominant Malfoy trait. She squirmed involuntarily under the taxing stare, and only relaxed a little when the deep wrinkles in the corners of the elder Malfoy's eyes smoothed, and then he gave Draco a nod.

"What just—?" she muttered.

Draco whispered back, "I haven't the foggiest."

She stared back at Abraxas Malfoy for a minute but the man on canvas wouldn't react at all, just answering her glare with one she couldn't decipher without seeing the most expressive part of a face. He might've been smiling, he might've been frowning; she couldn't tell. She sighed and said, "There goes my brilliant idea."

Malfoy put the portrait back between the other ones and shrugged one shoulder. "His journals will have to do. How many were you able to go through in the past few days?"

"I didn't have much time to read more than two of them."

"Oh yes, your _date_. That would keep you busy, of course." He closed the door behind them with a yank, and didn't offer his arm this time.

Stuck between annoyance at his obvious displeasure and smugness exactly _because_ he didn't like her alternative in evening entertainment, Hermione only lifted her chin a little and didn't spare him too much attention while she followed him back to the ground floor. "I couldn't find much of interest in those two journals. He mentioned his father a few times, but only in connection with a lot of politics, and a new sub-species of shrivelfig he tried in a potion but which didn't enhance his recipe, as he stated. Other than that, he reported detailed progress with the control of his appendages, saying that he could grow them on command but not make them retract in the same manner. You?"

"I compiled his observations and compared them to mine. A certain enhancement of senses, elevated body heat, increased dexterity and strength, not only with the appendages but also with the rest of his body. A shorter temper, and yes, an increased… ehm, sexual activity. Which, by the way, wasn't reflected in the amount of children. My father was an only child."

"Mistresses?" Hermione shot out without further thought. "He seemed quite smitten with his wife in my journals, though."

"No. He was faithful, according to his own accounts."

"But your mother told you that he—"

"That was _after_ my grandmother's passing. Other than that, he referenced a book on obscure curses and, in one of the later journals, a list of ancestors. All of them firstborns on the Malfoy side, by the way. And separated by one generation."

Draco opened the door to the library, and let her step through it first. The room was lit with a slightly different combination of candles and magic-attuned electric lighting, giving it a much homier feeling tonight than the previous times. Hermione smiled at the sight of neat piles of books and parchments, and then steered directly to the side table where the teapot was set on a warmer. To her immense glee, it was accompanied by two pieces of the same chocolate cake they'd had at their dinner with Mrs Malfoy. The two armchairs where occupied by books, and she took a seat on the small couch and started to pour the tea into a cup and then held it out to Draco.

He stared at her, focusing first on her hand and then her face before he shook his head imperceptibly, and took a seat next to her. Taking the cup and saucer out of her hand, he said, "You said you'd adjust a spell you've created. Did it work?"

Hermione nodded frantically, and set her own teacup on the table. "Yes. It does give false positive results sometimes but I think it catches all of the words you use. I tested it with _Hogwarts: A History_."

Malfoy chuckled into his tea. "Your obsession with that book even reached the Slytherin dorms."

She huffed. "Just because nobody else is interested in the history of the school doesn't mean it's not full of valuable information. Even if it's biased on a lot of topics."

"Granger, I _did_ read it. Once. Not thirty-seven times." At her incredulous look, he added, "Mother made me in first year."

Hermione grinned. The elevated body temperature he'd mentioned reached the skin on her uncovered arm and thigh, making her want to move closer and touch him. She smelled a whiff of his aftershave and reached forward for her tea, letting her crossed knees graze the side of his thigh. "Do you want to try the spell?" she asked, sipping a little of the fragrant liquid, and increased the pressure.

He took a sudden too-hot gulp of tea and winced a bit. "Sure."

She drew Abraxas' runes on a piece of parchment and pointed the tip of her wand on them. "I called it the Reperius spell, Latin for _to search_. _Reperio_ ," she incanted, painting a flurry of waves in the direction of one of the piles of books on the armchairs. One of the scrolls glowed, and then shot towards her faster than expected.

" _Protego!_ "

Hermione took a reflexive inhale; she hadn't even _seen_ Draco pull his wand out before the shield already existed. The scroll bumped against the magical barrier and hovered in front of them. She slowly exhaled and put her hand on his. He didn't tremble at all, but he slowly lowered his arm and let the barrier fall. "Draco," she said carefully, her hand still on his, "It would've stopped in time."

"I—" he began. "Of course." He let his head fall a little, and she stroked a soothing touch over the back of his hand before she pulled hers away, and plucked the scroll out of the air.

"That was exceptional." At his lack of reaction, she added, "I don't think I've ever seen anybody cast a shield spell that fast."

He didn't look her in the eyes, but instead spun his wand between his fingers. "We may add _decreased reaction time_ to the list, I assume."

"I assume you're right about that." She inspected him for a couple of seconds, took in the blotches of red on his face and the faint sheen of moisture on his forehead, both showing his heightened state of distress. The slight weight of the scroll in her hand reminded her of the task at hand, though, and she put her emerging questions and theories on hold. "The spell not only transports the document or book to you, it also highlights the phrase you're looking for." She unrolled the parchment and pointed at the glowing runes. "Ta-daa."

He perked up, his lips forming a smile. "Amazing. Maybe they were right with _brightest witch_ and all that. Show me the wand movement again."

She was pleased, and repeated the movement without the spell, showing him the required details to make it work. Correcting the frequency of the waves a bit, she leaned slightly to him before she put her fingers around his grip on the wand, and said, "You've almost got it. Just a little less swing." She directed his hand only with half concentration, breathing in his scent instead. A quick glance at him revealed his stare into her cleavage, and she suddenly was very aware of the long scar across her chest. She drew back and moved the one hand she'd placed on his to cover the skin above her neckline.

He picked it up after a few uncomfortable seconds and brushed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "I have scars, too. And not only the mark on my arm, either."

She relaxed her posture infinitesimally, and whispered, "Let me see."

He swallowed, and she thought he would decline, but he released her hand, and then opened the cufflink on his left arm. Looking at her, he slowly rolled his sleeve up until the entirety of the faded mark was visible. Hermione slowly extended her arm and brushed the tips of her fingers over the raised flesh. He shivered.

"You've got a glamour on your arm, don't you?" His voice was rough.

The clearing of her throat sounded harsh, and she moistened her dry lips with a swift lick of her tongue. "Do you want to—"

He nodded quickly, and she fumbled for her wand in her bag. Cancelling the charm, she observed the expression on his face, dreading the expected revulsion. It didn't come. Instead, his eyes focused on the insult carved into her skin, then they moved to the pale line on her cleavage, and, finally, to her eyes. His hand stroked over her shoulder and upper arm down to the inner side of her forearm, covering the scars with his hot palm. Goosebumps ran over her skin, but they were the pleasant kind.

"Do you want to—" His voice hitched a little, and he cleared his throat gently. "—see Potter's handiwork, too?"

She wanted to, and at the same time didn't. Offering him a chance to retreat but save face, she answered, "Only if it's alright with you."

"Believe me, Granger, I can imagine more erotic occasions to get undressed in front of a stunning woman."

Hermione felt the red warming her cheeks, half because of the compliment and half because she wouldn't mind seeing him undressed at all, and she averted her eyes a bit before they flickered to his and then the button facing. He opened it with sure fingers, revealing pale skin and scattered blond hair. She gripped her wand just a little tighter, not sure if she'd have to cast the Ice Wind soon, even if it seemed to be more for her convenience. Malfoy pulled the shirt open and breathed out slowly, daring her with his steely gaze.

His scar was a broad, white line cleaving through the few hairs and almost dissecting one of his nipples. She started to trace its path with the tip of her index before she consciously realised she did so, and looked at him to ask his consent without words. He nodded, the muscles beneath the otherwise smooth skin trembling, and he stroked one hand from the back of her neck a little further down, fiddling with the neckline there. Hermione felt that content purr inside of her again. She followed the Z-shape to his belly button, and then hesitated to continue, not sure if she would actually want to stop when she'd reached his waistband.

"Granger," he hissed, and she saw his appendages slither free. His crotch was partly covered by the edge of one half of his shirt, but the bulge was undeniable. Before she could pull back, she felt some of his appendages wrap around her torso and the back of her head, vanishing in her curls. They felt nice on her, just like they had last time, and how she'd remembered them so frequently when she'd touched herself, and when he tilted her head by her chin, she slightly opened her lips in anticipation. She wasn't disappointed, his lips a little chapped but hot on hers, increasing the pressure when she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like sweet tea. Hermione moaned a little and he started nibbling on her lips and moved to the edge of her jaw while she put her arms around his neck, burying the one without wand in his hair and exploring his horns. She could feel them grow under her touch, and he interrupted his tantalising suckles on her neck with a grunt when she stroked them between her fingers. Like his appendages, they were slightly vibrating with energy, and she wondered what kind of outlet for this abundance of magic was needed. One of the possible answers had her needy core clench around—unfortunately—nothing.

His hands grabbed her hips, more tentacles moving around her upper body and her arms, and he flipped them both, so he was on top of her. Her legs lied a little crooked off of the sofa, but she wasn't ashamed to admit that she would grind her damp core against him if he'd been between her thighs. And she definitely wouldn't mind him pushing the skirt of her dress up. He kissed his way down her neck and across her cleavage until he reached the start of her scar and pressed his lips on it reverently. More appendages snaked down her legs and drew little circles on her skin, leaving that pleasant tingle where ever they touched, and the ones in her hair started to massage her scalp. Her eyes fluttered closed at the arousing sensation.

"If you don't cast the Ice Wind right now, Hermione, I _will_ ravish you," he panted against her skin and licked down her scar until the cloth of her dress stopped him. His hands stroked from her hips up her sides, and settled just below her breasts for a few moments.

"Why do I always have to be the sensible one?" she whined and pressed his head against her chest. He spluttered a little when he tried to say something, but he also moved his hands finally, finally onto her breasts and squeezed. She groaned and spoke the spell, and an instant wave of coldness and dampened intentions washed over her.

Draco relaxed against her, still panting heavily and his hard cock pressing up the side of her thigh. His thumbs grazed her stiff nipples but it was more affectionate than frantic, not that it did anything to ease her lust, and she raked her fingers through his hair. He sniffed a little and then inhaled deeply, and closed his lips around one hard but still clothed peak. She arched her back against him with a deep moan as the appendages on her thigh wandered higher, playing with the hem of her dress and then slithering underneath it. She spread her legs like it was the most natural reaction, well aware of the wet spot on the lace of her underwear.

Clinging onto some shreds of consciousness, she cast the Ice Wind again, putting more power into her words, and they both shuddered under its effect.

"Fuck, Hermione." He moved up and kissed her softly, then nuzzled his face into her neck. "You're so bloody irresistible," he murmured and eased his grip on her but still kept full contact. A smile played her lips, still eager for more but also somewhat content, and she untangled her fingers from the mess of his hair and wrapped her arms around his back. She enjoyed the low groan she elicited with a final tweak on his horns.

"How do you feel?" she asked and cast another Ice Wind. "We really should get some work done or we'll never find the root of all of it."

"I'm aware," he said, propping himself up onto his hands and looking down on her. His tentacles retreated slowly from their places on her body, the ones on the inside of her thigh dragging leisurely along the sensitive skin until she couldn't stifle her moan anymore. She swore she could feel the heat of his cock through all the layers of cloth. "But it's getting late for you, I assume. Unless you'll be off tomorrow? Or want to stay overnight?" Not the smoothest line she'd ever heard but his hopeful look was quite endearing.

"Unfortunately, I'm not." She checked her wristwatch. "Maybe another twenty minutes or so. Uninterrupted twenty minutes. And maybe I should cast more often?" She spoke the spell and they both shivered a little. It didn't seem to have that much of an effect anymore. "Did you notice any direct effects on your spell casting?"

"Except the previously noted speed? Not really, but everything is faster, stronger, harder..." His voice tapered off, and he sat upright, breaking the contact of his hard length with her thigh and helping her to get up, too, but avoiding her eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have put it _that_ plainly."

She snickered a little while she pulled her dress right again. "I'm a big girl, I can handle it. It just seems that my enhanced magic already lost its power. _Lumos_."

The tip of her wand sparked a lightning-hot white, causing the rest of the lights in the room to pick the brightness up and drowning the room in a blaze of light.

He yelped and smacked a hand over his eyes. "Fuck, Hermione, are you trying to blind me?!"

"Or not," she deadpanned, and quickly toned the intensity down to normal levels with her eyes firmly pressed shut. "I'm sorry. That didn't go as intended."

"Obviously," he said in the same tone and carefully blinked his eyes open. "Your silhouette is still burned onto my retinas."

"What a lovely compliment."

"Weren't we supposed to do some work?"

"We were, and we've already covered some aspects. Anything else you'd like to contribute?"

"Gosh, Granger, you put it like you were doing all the work, when in reality you spent your evenings Salazar-knows-where while I was reading half of our library."

She blinked, anger and frustration rolling through her at his sudden display of annoyance. "Now, what exactly are you trying to tell me here, Malfoy?"

"Just the truth. That you were cavorting when I was trying to find the cause." His fingers clenched into fists and his tentacles looked irritated with their wild flailing.

"Cavorting? What do you mean by _cavorting_? I have a fucking _job_ , Malfoy. Unlike you, I can't sit around and drink tea all day, and read a little when I feel like it. I actually have to _earn_ my living!" She felt her hair take up energy from her barely restrained magic, fizzling little sparks at the ends of her hairs. The little hot ball in her lower belly was from her anger. She deliberately ignored the continued throbbing a little further down, and how the content feeling inside had changed into a growl.

He grit his teeth, his extra limbs looking stronger and thicker, like pure power held on a too short leash. "Do you need compensation for your work? Take long holidays or a sabbatical. I'll pay you twice as much as you make now."

"What? No!"

"Why not? Is it the salary? That's negotiable."

"I have responsibilities." She hesitated a bit. "People to train, curses to break…"

"Are you the only one at Gringotts' doing that?"

"Of course not. But—"

"You could solve the Malfoy mystery, instead."

She sighed, the anger draining out of her as Draco got calmer with another cast of the Ice Wind, too. "Look, Draco, I've worked hard to get to where I am now. I'm not going to compromise that."

He actually looked a bit contrite at her words. "I'm not trying to convince you to give it up completely. Just take a break. Imagine the progress we could make if we both work full-time on it."

It was tempting but she was also ambitious about her career. "No. This—" She gestured at their surroundings. "Is a temporary project. It'll be over at some point, and then I'll have lost my accomplishments at Gringotts because it's convenient for people to _forget_ achievements of others, and will have to start at the beginning again. But I could try to come over one or two evenings during the week. Provided you take care of dinner."

His deep frown changed in an instant, and before he could take up a more neutral expression, she saw something flickering across it. Delight, maybe, or gratification. "I just might be able to do that."

"I might expect you to cook yourself," she said smugly. "And not Wompy."

"Expect to eat a lot of toast with various spreads for the next couple of weeks, then."

She laughed.

* * *

 **ETA: I'm very sorry for forgetting to add this last night: The pizza scene was inspired by Kyonomiko's Dramione story Muggles and Mortgages (available on FFN). When you read that passage, you'll exactly know why ;). I strongly recommend it, if you haven't already. It's hilarious :D.**

 **Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	7. Motto

**Family mottos can be surprising. And here's some more self-love, too ;).**

 ** **Happy birthday, In_Dreams! I hurried up a bit to get this chapter finished as a little present. Have a fabulous day, hun! 3****

 **Huge thanks to everyone who has commented,** kudos'ed **, favourited or even recommended my story! It's always such a highlight to read what you all think, and it motivates my muse so much.**

 **A big thank you to Kyonomiko for being a wonderful alpha-reader, and to Riptide for his amazing beta-abilities. I'm a lucky woman to have your help! 3**

 **This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

Fact was, he wasn't sure about a lot of things.

First of all, he wasn't quite sure how he'd coaxed Hermione into staying beyond the twenty minutes she'd initially agreed to; no matter what, though, he wouldn't remind her of the time. He also wasn't sure about the flare of temper they'd both had not even an hour ago, especially after the extended groping she'd allowed him.

She _must_ have seen the painful heroism he'd subjected himself to when he reminded her of the Ice Wind.

He still had her scent in his nose, and if he brought the appendages which had been between her thighs to his nose, he'd probably go bonkers from lust and leap directly onto her lap. All he could do was to cling to the discouraging effect of her spellwork, and hope his body would get the final memo, too. He had, in fact, noticed the power Granger had put into her incantation. It was mind-boggling how they both weren't blocks of ice already. Or how his dick still was half-hard and his bollocks not the size of small olive kernels by now. At least he'd been able to reign his appendages in and repair his shirt.

In addition to all those riddles, he didn't quite like the thought of being manipulated into doing something, even if it was sex for his benefit, nor that it also might be manipulating his witch. He personally had his fair share of non-choices to last the next two lifetimes. Wizarding-lifetimes.

And lastly, the most disturbing fact was that his family had managed to keep such an important secret covered up for generations on end, if Abraxas' list was any indication. Not so _Sanctimonium Vincet Semper_ after all, eh? And if they couldn't find out how it had come to be, maybe at least they could find a way to keep it under wraps for another couple of hundred years.

After she'd finished her cake and they'd moved their tea to the desk, Granger opened her notebook, and started to skim her notes. "I've had the very first of your grandpa's journals. You've gone through the third to the what, tenth?"

He nodded. "Almost. I've half-finished the ninth, but I got stuck on a complicated combination of runes. Here." He opened the journal at the indicated page and showed her the part in question.

She only sighed. "I honestly have no clue. What's the context?"

He rubbed a hand over his tired face. "That's the point. It could mean at least two things. For most of that page, he's rambling about a novel conservation charm for parchment. I believe it's a spell mentioned in that obscure spell book he seemed to have found a liking for. I haven't tried it." At her lit-up eyes, he added, "That stuff is dark. I don't think there's even one spell in there which doesn't include blood in one way or the other."

Granger wrinkled her cute nose. "I'm not sure I want to know what all exactly he dabbled in."

He concurred with a nod. "Some of the spells are simply vile. Some others merely serve to protect family and property. But those runes in his journal could also refer to whatever lies beyond the veil. And if he'd gone as far as necromancy… I draw the line way before that."

Visibly relieved at his words, she asked, "What else do we have?"

"We have that list of ancestors I mentioned earlier." He handed her a handwritten copy, his narrow script decorated with the elegant flourishes his tutors had taught him. They were very different from the rational letters he'd seen her using for her notes.

She read through it, and then looked at him. "Have you searched for anything written by them yet?"

"Yes." He pointed to a few of the bigger piles at a corner of the desk. "Journals and private correspondence, as far as I could discern them from the others."

She smiled at him. "Good. We should try the Reperio charm." Writing something on the piece of paper in front of her, she then proceeded to cast the spell. The outcome was a bit meagre, as just one parchment made its way to her. Her smile fell, but she laid the document on the wooden surface of the desk and looked for the highlighted words. "Seems like 'tentacles' isn't the most obvious word for our search."

He ripped the document out of her hand and read it. "It's about food, Granger. There's talk about Spanish _food_ in this letter."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I should have suspected that you Malfoys might prefer a bit more of a circumcised language." With a playful gleam in her eyes, she added, "You don't seem too fond of that word either."

He growled, feeling the skin of his back twitch. "Not exactly."

She reached over and stroked across his hand once, then leaned back. "I guess we'll have to try any synonym we can think of and, also, more innocuous phrases like 'situation' and 'disposition'. Merlin," she said and started to run a hand through her hair until her fingers got snatched in a snare of curls. "That will be a lot of work."

He dreaded the prospect of the amount of work a little bit, but he definitely liked the one of seeing her during most of it. "We'll manage. With enough toast, spread, and tea, anything is possible."

She leaned back in her chair and laughed. He liked the sound of it, and how it made the corners of her eyes crease and her cheeks round. It would be perfect to see them flushed and her mouth wrapped around his—

 _Nope, not going there. For now._

"Do you have a family tree somewhere?"

He was glad for the distraction. "The tapestry's in my father's former study."

"We could put up a copy here in the library, where we can refer to it at all times. Mark down the ones mentioned by your grandfather. Write important information on it. How far does this list go?"

"Eleventh century."

"Uh..."

"Yeah. But if it's any consolation, the surviving documentation from the very early part of the family is marginal."

"Alright. Let's take care of the family tree first, then we'll try to search for more information in the documents we have here."

"Sounds like a plan."

His father's study was halfway to the room with the destroyed heirlooms, and Hermione observed each portrait curiously on their way there. Her obvious interest was intriguing but she didn't say anything, and he decided to let her get her fill. Finally reaching the correct door, he unlocked and opened it for her to pass it first.

The room was dark not just because of the advanced time but to keep the colours of the magical stitching as brilliant as possible. Restoration charms from conservation professionals cost a fortune. He lighted the magical torches and unfolded the large sheet of paper, laying it down on the floor, as his father's desk wasn't large enough to accommodate it. The dust and dry air tickled his nose, yet he restrained himself from rubbing it or even sneezing; funny how years of strict mental discipline were still present on demand.

Unaware of his discomfort, Hermione hummed with her eyes fixated on the display of over 900 years of political alliances, careful expansions of wealth, and sometimes even a little bit of love or at least mutual respect. Hermione tilted her head from side to side and then pulled out a couple of her different pens and handed him one.

He eyed it with a little hesitance and pulled the cap off. "It's red."

She raised her eyebrow. "Obviously. You take over the maternal lines, I the paternal ones."

He pouted a little. "Why can't I—"

"Oh, sweet Merlin. How old are you, Malfoy? Thirteen?"

"If I was thirteen, I surely wouldn't stand with you here in front of my family's genealogical tapestry." At her second raised eyebrow, he added, "I also seem to remember you trying to beat that bad behaviour out of me back then. Good thing that I'm twenty-five now, and much more mature, right?" He tried to give her a winning smile which seemed to placate her at least a little.

"We'll colour-code the copy. Red for the maternal lines, blue for the paternal ones. And before you start complaining about taking over the maternal lines again: I remember best when I write new knowledge down. So, all of this will help me get an understanding for your family."

"That makes sense, I suppose."

She huffed. "Of course, it does." She started with the first Malfoi of the British branch who'd adjusted his name soon after arriving with William the Conqueror. Working along the tree from his nth-grandfather to the next, she switched to swot-mode. "We're lucky that wizarding folk live longer than Muggles. A Muggle family tree would have approximately fifty percent more generations."

"I guess."

"That probably brings stability. But it also means technological and moral standstill."

"Are you lecturing me about wizarding mores now, Granger?"

"Just take those old-fashioned, idiotic, supremacist family mottos of the Sacred Twenty-Eight." She pointed at the Malfoy family crest on the very top of the family tree and stopped with her mouth already open to issue another barrage of words. She squinted at the banner, then she looked at him with big eyes. He let her stew for a moment.

"The motto you're referring to was declared by Brutus Malfoy, coincidentally or maybe not, when the Statute of Secrecy was enforced," he said calmly and kept drawing a red box around a female Malfoy's name. "Not only was it _très chic_ to have a motto like that back then, it was also very convenient to cover up all the half-bloods which had already been married into the family by simply glossing over facts and pointing at the motto as if it's always been there."

"But—"

"As Head of Family," he spoke a bit louder and didn't let her interrupt him, "I saw it fit to change it, as it neither reflects my beliefs anymore nor what I want my family to represent."

 _Vires Vincet Semper_ , the new stitching read.

" _Strength always conquers_ ," she translated. "I don't know what to say."

"Let me mark the day in my calendar," he tried to joke, but it fell a bit flat.

Granger stayed silent for a while after that, the blue lines which she drew to connect his ancestors on their copy a bit shaky. Maybe she was aware what changing a family motto truly meant for the living family members, but probably she wasn't. He felt it had been one of the necessary steps to distance himself from his family's past with emphasis, and his mother had been surprisingly quiet about it. He hadn't had any problem with ostracising the loudest of the portraits to the furthest and darkest rooms, far away from interactions with visitors and relatives.

She cleared her throat when she finished with his own name and blue box around it. The spot for the adjoining red one was still empty, and the former, very blurred outlines of Astoria's name had vanished a long time ago from the tapestry, leaving only a highlighted oval which shouldn't be visible at all by now.

"You know," he broke the silence, " _Vires_ doesn't only refer to power and strength in the literal sense. It can also mean mental strength."

Hermione watched him curiously. "In the end, it'll always boil down to the interpretation of the respective member of the family, I guess."

He conceded. "True. I can only lay the groundwork and make sure it's as solid as possible."

She took a close look at their copy of the family tree, making sure that everything was accurate, and then rolled up the parchment. "That might just be the defining step," she said and dazzled a smile at him.

Moving next to her, he could smell the coconut in her hair again and her earlier arousal. Swallowing hard, he tried his best to keep his overly vivid imagination on a short leash. The appendages still started to stretch his skin.

He reached for her hand, eager to feel a small part of her again, and put it through the crook of his elbow after he'd warded the study. Regaling her with the few random stories he could remember about key family ancestors, they went back to the library. He really should've been able to remember more of them, but he actually wasn't quite sure about the early lineage anymore.

And with recent events, exactly those details might be essential.

ooOoOoOoo

Her eyes had been falling closed for a while until she finally acknowledged to herself how exhausted she was. She watched Draco scribbling away with occasional looks at the big genealogical chart they'd put up on a nearby bookshelf. The picture put a smile on her face; it was nice to have a research partner who took the issue as seriously as she did. And beyond his self-evident interest in this topic, she also caught herself imagining both of them in a more relaxed environment.

"I really need to go home and get some sleep," she announced, and started to pack her things into her purse. She'd given up her trusted beaded bag a couple of years ago, when Ginny convinced her that a ratty remainder of teenage years wasn't befitting of a witch with sophisticated career goals. That hadn't prevented her from equipping her set of handbags with Undetectable Extension Charms, of course. Just switching between them got a bit more difficult.

Draco stood up and turned and twisted his back. It was amazing how he looked so crisp and flawless despite wearing a recently repaired shirt and having worked at a desk for hours. She was a little envious.

"I'll bring you to the floo."

"The perfect host, as I'd expected," she teased a little.

"Can't have you causing mischief in my home, can I? You might accidentally end up in my bedroom, since you can't even manage to travel to a prominent apparition point without a hitch." The faint wrinkles around his eyes deepened with his smirk, and she slapped his chest a little with the back of her hand.

"Oh hush." She laughed. "But seriously, how could that have happened? Your wards should've repelled me instantly, throwing me on my arse, at least."

"You're right. I'll check their integrity in detail. If something was completely wrong with them, Wompy would have told me. And—" He paused and looked at her with hesitation.

"And?"

"When I was a child, my father taught me about… this sounds so wrong considering what happened in the war and why we were even in it."

"Go on."

"He taught me about my responsibilities and duties as a Malfoy. About family magic, and how only the blood of the _purest_ of witches and wizards had made our house to what it is now. No matter how wrong that sentiment is, you need to understand that this building is so imbued with magic, that it's more or less impossible to get through the wards without permission or a year of curse-breaking work. And I have not given you explicit permission. It's a little unsettling, but I will try to shed light on that. Not like we don't have enough on our plate anyway." He sighed.

She entwined her fingers with his and squeezed lightly. "Like Hogwarts," she said and looked at him in awe.

He shook his head. "No. Hogwarts is almost sentient. Malfoy Manor isn't, no matter how powerful my ancestors wished they were. Maybe in a couple of hundred years, if my family keeps adding their magic."

Hermione hummed in understanding. She hesitated a little when they came to a standstill in front of the floo, then she looked at him from under her eyelashes.

With a murmur which suspiciously sounded like, "Oh fuck it," he took her face in both hands and kissed her. She responded immediately, wrapping both of her arms around his neck and pulling him snug against her body. Softly exploring the outer line of his lips, she anticipated the ripping sound of his shirt and smiled with his lower lip between her teeth when she felt the tentacles wrap around her limbs. He pressed his mouth hard on hers and moved along the line of her neck until he started to suck on her pulse point. Hermione moaned and tilted her neck to the side, well aware that he was going to leave a love-bite. With one hand on her arse and the other one kneading her breast, his elevated body heat ran right to her core, making her wet again but she'd take care of that issue soon.

Casting the Ice Wind and pushing lightly against his chest, she said, "I really need to go home now."

He grunted, in consent or no, she couldn't tell, but since he didn't stop sucking and laving her throat, he probably disagreed. She pushed a little more, and he slowly dislodged his mouth and hands, looking at her with pink cheeks and blown-out pupils. He was beautiful like that.

Tempted to reach for his cock but also knowing that she'd never be able to stop there if she did, she pecked his lips, and turned to grab a fistful of the floo-powder. She'd underestimated the grip his appendages still had on her, though. He chuckled a little at her squirming, and then kissed her again, more passionately than her peck, before he released her.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asked.

"I need to check my schedule tomorrow. I'll owl you."

He picked up her hand and breathed a kiss on her knuckles with mock-formality. "I'll be awaiting your missive with bated breath, fair lady."

"Don't suffocate until then, Malfoy," she said with a smirk, and added, "Good night, dear sir." She curtsied with the same amount of sarcasm, spoke her address with a swoosh of floo powder thrown, and finally went through the green flames.

Hermione's grin turned into a pleased smile when she stumbled out of the chimney. She dusted herself off of the thin layer of ash and floo powder, and her hands briefly lingered on her breasts. Her nipples were stiff, aching for more attention than she could give them herself. She squeezed them harshly anyway, moaning at the mix of pleasure and pain, then looked at the clock on the wall, and sighed. It was already considerably past midnight, but she didn't like the prospect of sleeping without any relief for all her accumulated tension, at all.

Only _thinking_ about Malfoy made her feel warm already. She toed her shoes off and slipped into her cat house slippers, single-mindedly moving to the bathroom to go through her nightly ablutions. Her eyes glanced at her full breasts when she brushed her teeth, wondering if Malfoy had enjoyed the round feeling of them. Or how it would be to feel him directly on her skin. Not just his hands, but all of him.

She felt giddy with the prospect of half an hour of fantasies before she'd fall asleep sated and didn't even bother changing into her nightwear on her way to bed but only threw all of her clothes into the laundry basket. Pulling and twisting her nipples when she was on her back, _finally_ , she imagined the feeling of his smooth tentacles on her breasts and almost moaned. Maybe she shouldn't have stopped him. Then she wouldn't have to deal with this frustration. Maybe she'd even be up for round two or three by now.

She picked up her toy and switched it on. Malfoy—Draco—would have a field day knowing it had a dark green colour. Hermione held the vibrating tip against her clit and sighed loudly. Maybe he wasn't even into her pleasuring herself. But maybe he'd love to see her fuck herself on something that he'd probably call a Slytherin cock, by extension at least. She moved the toy further down to her entrance to gather up some of the wetness. Her lips parted easily, squelching slightly when she moved the vibrator a bit in and out again to wet her pussy. The tip moved around her clit, and she bit her lips when she felt herself clenching, with the toy pressing just right against her nub. The vibrations made her toes curl.

With the next pinch on her nipple, Hermione imagined Draco playing with her breasts. His hot hands would cup their fullness, first brushing his thumbs over them, like he had earlier, until she would tell him to squeeze them. Or even better, to have his tentacles play with them. She groaned into her empty bedroom at that mental image.

Tilting the green cock a bit back, she moved it to her opening and slowly worked it into her core. She still could close her hand around its girth, but it did stretch her a bit, just the way she liked it. In the back of her mind, she was sure that Draco's cock would stretch her just as deliciously, maybe even a little more if she'd felt that bulge correctly. She replayed the hot and steely feel of his crotch against her, how the movements of his hips would rub her just the right way. Another wave of slick was coating her cunt. Abandoning her nipple, she moved the fingers of her free hand further down, feeling the motions of the toy and coating her fingertips in her own wetness; then she started to rub wide circles around her clit, swiping over it at times while her other hand fucked her vibrator in and out slowly.

She would savour this, would make the most of the fresh memories of him.

"Oh fuck." She pulled it out completely and watched the glistening toy before she slid the whole buzzing length along her clit. Would the head of his cock be purple in a similar situation? Would he tease her relentlessly and whisper dirty nothings into her ear? She pushed the dildo into herself again, with a bit more force and a twist which made her hiss this time, mimicking a hard thrust. The fingertips holding it were slippery by now, just as the index and middle finger of her other hand were. She picked up their speed, rubbing faster around her clit and changing the angle of the toy to slide it over her G-spot with every movement in and out.

"Oh." Hermione panted in pleasure and her cunt gripped the toy more and more with every pass of her fingers across her clit. Her wetness was dripping down the crack of her arse and it would pool on her sheets. It didn't matter. What mattered was the image of Malfoy watching her, jerking on his dick, praising her for taking her pleasure from where and when she wanted it.

She felt her inner coil tighten and increased the frequency of her fingers. The toy was stagnant now, just the tip of it pressing against that sensitive spot inside of her that would enhance her orgasm. She felt the blood in her face and the sweat on her whole body. Her hair was surely a mess with all the hectic movements her head usually made when she got off by herself and she wondered if Draco would bury his face in it. She was moaning and breathing loudly, her fingers circling and pressing so fast against that nerve centre that the wet sounds could only be described as obscene.

"Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Draco—" With an inner picture of her pussy stretching and moving along Draco's cock, she finally climaxed. Her back arched, lips forming the last letter of his name, and her hand pushed the toy as far inside as possible. Her cunt contracted so hard that she felt the pulsing against the hand holding it in place.

Hermione exhaled with a soft whine, letting her body fall back on the bed from where it had lifted during her orgasm. She twisted the toy in her aftershocks, and moaned again at the wonderful drag of it against her walls when she slowly pulled it out and switched it off. It was covered in her thick come, the long string of it snapping and causing a cool sensation when it landed on her exposed clit.

Spread-eagle on her mussed bed, she turned her cheek to cool it on the pillow and held the slick green vibrator in her right hand. She knew that she had to get up and clean it, but for now, she would just close her eyes for a bit and enjoy the satisfaction. It wouldn't hold up for long anyway.

* * *

 **Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.**


	8. The Box

**The plot thickens! I honestly don't know where it came from, but here it is, happily developing this fic into something more than PWP ;).**

 **Thank you so much to everyone how has read, kudosed, and commented! You continued support is what keeps this story going, even if it's only very slowly.**

 **A big thank you to** **Kyonomiko** **for her initial feedback over a year ago (can you imagine?), and to TheLastLynx and** **Riptide** **whose alpha and beta work is the only reason it didn't take one year more for this chapter to be updated. You all made so many important comments, and they definitely improved my story! 3**

 **Have you seen that I have a new aesthetic for Appendices on AO3 or tumblr? I_was_BOTWP gifted me with this amazing aesthetic and I'm still so happy whenever I look at it. Thank you, dear friend!**

 **This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.**

 **Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

ooOoOoOoo

Throwing a quick glance at her wristwatch, Hermione barely suppressed a curse. Again, the time had flown by without her even noticing, and now it was lunchtime already. She'd wanted to write Malfoy much earlier; her evening plans had been derailed by her superior, however, who'd requested she take over the review of an object for the DMLE. Work at short notice for the Auror office was often unpredictable; she'd probably have to work a late shift today.

Parchment and quill ready on her heavy wooden desk, she scribbled a short note cancelling tonight's appointment with Draco. Disappointment tugged at the corner of her lips as she closed the small scroll with a drop of wax and the press of her personal seal. It would have been nice to spend time with him. Their intellectual exchanges were stimulating, and not only those, if she were honest with herself. She squirmed on the chair, feeling an undercurrent of arousal she was intent to push aside immediately.

Despite the relatively short cart ride to the bank-owned owlery, she'd rolled the message in her hands so often by the time she got there that its edges were a bit crumpled. The air smelled of feathers and litter, a scent she would always associate with Hogwarts' owlery and the bittersweet memories of her youth. She cooed at the next free owl and gave it a gentle stroke before she fixed the message and sent it off to Draco with an oblique smile.

On the opposite side of the room was the row of owl PO boxes. Her own was designated 'H. Granger, curse-breaker,' and as expected, she found the folder of her latest ministry assignment in it. Judging from her brief skimming of the outline, it would keep her thoroughly busy for a good while. With a heavy sigh, she picked up a quick late lunch at the 'cafeteria' in vault 712 before dutifully making her way back down to the vaults.

"Good afternoon, Mr Sombel," she greeted the goblin sitting in the cart. He would take her back to her office beneath them, below even the deepest vaults.

"Afternoon, Ms Granger. To your office, as usual?" The goblin acknowledged her with an infinitesimal jerk of his head before he turned the wheel and tapped a couple of ledgers with the long nail of his index finger. Hermione braced herself against the erratic acceleration with a white-knuckled grip on the handle on the inside of the cart. The sudden movement always made her a little nauseous. On top of that, the involuntary recollection of a shirtless Draco with his appendages winding around her limbs, caressing them, didn't help her keep concentration on keeping her stomach settled in the least—or on anything else, for that matter.

"Yes, thank you." The dark liquid in her cup sloshed against the invisible containment charm she'd used so her drink could survive the trip down to her office despite the goblin's precarious driving style. Relieved to be able to get out again, she exited the cart at their destination and muttered an absent but polite goodbye. She faced her door. The established combination of enchanted key and handprint to open the office doors was a bit of a hassle with her arms full, but after rearranging the food and folder in her hands, she managed it.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Hermione renewed the air-cleaning charm to get rid of the stifling stench which still leeched from the ancient walls of her office. It probably was a relic of its previous life as a potions laboratory. While she regularly changed the display of her panorama window, she sometimes felt the oppressive atmosphere of being so deep below the surface. The array of lush plants on her faux window sill helped to lighten the mood on most days, though. Taking a deep breath of the refreshed, slightly flowery air, she hung her thin outer robe onto one of the simple coat hangers behind her door, setting her food and drink on the free part of her desk.

Her eyes grazed over the small pile of leather-bound booklets. She'd brought Abraxas' journals with her on a whim this morning. She _knew_ she wouldn't have much time to work on them, but the vague, nagging feeling in the back of her mind wouldn't leave her alone. Taking big bites, she ate her tuna sandwich quickly without really tasting it, so immersed was she in recapitulating the little bit of last evening's translation they'd done. The answers to Malfoy's unexpected transformation just _had_ to be somewhere in these lines. Even if they weren't expressly described by Draco's grandfather, she still hoped for references to other, perhaps much older records. With an absent swirl of her wand, she cleaned her hands and vanished the few crumbs which had fallen onto her notes.

Hermione pulled the journals closer to her with her fingertips, pushing a few of the strands of hair which had escaped her bun behind her ears. She hadn't slept nearly enough during the past couple of days. Before she began to proofread the last handful of pages of her translations, she set her wand alarm, and then closed her eyes to centre herself. The short thirty minutes she was allowed for lunch were barely enough to concentrate on what she'd done already, so starting a new entry of Abraxas' diary wasn't feasible. She'd have to allot much more time for that.

When the melodic ring of her alarm reminded her to get back to her paying job, she'd finished her tea just so. Whenever her focus diverted only a little, images of Malfoy's well-snogged lips and burning touches invaded her mind. Cursing her fickle brain, she grabbed the folder of the object she would start working on today and began to read.

A good half an hour later, lips pursed in face of the meagre information the Aurors had provided her with, she left for the high-security containment sector two levels below hers. Conveniently, the goblins had installed a circular staircase at some point during the 1950s. It was narrow, but it was still quicker and less upsetting to her stomach than the carts.

Gringotts praised themselves on being wizarding world's oldest and securest bank—especially after they'd managed to employ Hermione Granger, the only known witch who'd ever successfully broken in. Of course, they were also renowned for even more tightly-secured facilities carved much deeper into the stone below London to contain the utmost questionable objects in private possession.

Finishing the sequence of advised protection spells on herself, she entered the lab. She folded her sleeves up to her elbows to free her wrists for spellcasting. Their latest acquisition was laid out on the sturdy stone table in the middle of the room. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the item. It wasn't that big, maybe the size of two thick books put together. She stepped closer until her hips leaned against the edge of the working table.

At first sight, the box looked simple enough; only on closer inspection did its opulent decoration become noticeable. Various kinds of wood, now darkened by age, had been used to create an array of delicate inlays. Hermione recognised elder and black limba among them. She tapped her pen onto the current page of the notebook in her hand and contemplated the trees' magical uses. Considering the violent nature of the object, elder wood might have been used to strengthen communication with the darker aspects of magic. The main corpus of the box appeared to be made entirely from black limba, a wood she knew was associated with substantially enhancing one's control over Dark Magic. Infused with the right—or wrong, but that depended on the point of view—type of spells, the little chest would prove a powerful obstacle against accessing its contents, solely due to its makeup. Hermione doubted all the effort had been made to contain anything less than an artefact of immense magical power, but she would have to wait until she broke through its protection.

She scribbled down her observations and studied the item again. Its pattern on the polished surface was winding and convoluted in a way which made it difficult for her eyes to focus on a specific area. She couldn't confidently distinguish the different features. Their constant meandering made her want to reach out and trail her fingertips over the lid. Hermione felt something tugging subtly at her mind, compelling her to do just that.

At once, she pressed her eyelids shut for a few seconds and breathed slowly through her nose. The object was influencing her, and she needed to regain control immediately. She took a couple more steadying breaths. "Sneaky," she mumbled a few moments later, documenting her preliminary findings. She had only read about this kind of charm but never seen one.

The box, as simple and innocuous as it appeared at first sight, had caused severe burns to its former owner. Unfortunately, that witch had refused to reveal where she had got it from. She also didn't elaborate on which spells she'd used. Just the memory of the interview the Aurors had conducted with the stubborn witch made Hermione huff with indignance. Not only would it have helped the curse-breakers but also the healers at St. Mungo's. In fact, it would be generally quite beneficial if people would only be more honest sometimes.

Waving the wand over the device, she confirmed the suspected traces of Dark Magic and several layers of tightly-knit spells she was sure she had never seen before. Still, they felt eerily familiar, in an unsettling and ungraspable way. Shaking off her growing discomfort, she went through her mental catalogue of wards she'd encountered and read about, but while fragments fit every now and then, she couldn't puzzle them together. She inhaled deeply again to rein in her increasing impatience. Without a real grasp on the congruence with other spells, she'd have to consider these as rare blood wards, specifically designed to repel non-familial outsiders from accessing the presumed great treasure inside. That would also explain why the box had reacted so violently and the unwillingness of the injured witch to cooperate. In any case, it likely meant Hermione was faced with the insurmountable task of finding an appropriate blood donor to negate the wards. She would need more than a modicum of luck for that. It wasn't even clear if the suitable family was British. Hermione pulled a face. The uncomfortable alternative could mean weeks, maybe even months, of tedious curse-breaking to unravel the fabric of the magic.

She sighed. Combatting this type of magic was always draining.

As she adjusted and re-adjusted the grip on her wand a few times to regain her concentration on unwinding the first couple of magical threads, she felt her concentration slip. A part of her mind kept drifting off to Malfoy instead. His pale, smooth skin, only marred by his scars and the smattering of coarse hair. Small pink nipples which would pucker underneath her tongue. His breath hitching with anticipation when her hand would stroke lower, cupping his erectio—

She jerked back at the furious sting which hit her from the box. The pain was an intense spike, singing along her nerves as she quickly cast the mandatory series of diagnostic spells. Her hand shook, all thoughts of Malfoy forgotten for the moment. Thank the gods, there weren't those mysterious magical burn marks the injured witch immediately had seemed to bear after her failed attempts to open the box. Still, Hermione knew well enough that not all magical curses needed to show on the outside.

She cast a much closer look at her own inherent magical pattern and held her breath. It came up almost normal. A heavy sigh of relief escaped her lips. The small _hitch_ in her core structure had appeared only recently, and she felt anxious about it. She just hoped the examinations at the specialised healer this morning would be concluded within the promised two days.

Shoving the encounter to the back of her mind, she studied the seal with furrowed brows and carefully reached out. The object rattled with threatening magic now. As she began to go through the obligatory good curse-breaking practice, she could sense her wand grazing against an invisible barrier just above its surface. Touching it with more force gave no different results; it was intransigent. She cast a sequence of regular and altered opening spells, in vain. All other common and uncommon unlocking charms she knew turned out to be just as ineffective. At one point, she got so desperate that she even grit out an _open sesame_ although she'd have wagered half her precious book collection that it wouldn't have worked anyway. She rubbed her temples. Her fingers got slightly sticky from perspiration. If the usual procedure didn't work, she'd have to resort to more extraordinary methods.

Hermione scrutinised the object for another moment and then cast the spell once more that had provoked it to sting. Analysing the effect of her approach, she realised that the protective charm had lost a fraction of its power. Still, it hit her shield with enough impact to make the magic flare up as it licked along the expanse of it.

Could she possibly wear out the protective charm?

Five hours and a handful of curses continuously increasing in volume later, a thick layer of sweat covered her forehead. A few curls had escaped her bun and now stuck to her damp temples and sticky neck. She felt elated, although she'd drained large reserves of her magic in a comparably short time. The uppermost part of the complex magic was frayed enough to try to disband it completely, but she'd need a longer break first. Maybe it would be better to get some sleep. Forcing herself to a sequence of deep and slow exhalations, she slumped down into the chair she'd dragged from her desk and wiped her face with a conjured towel. The thought of how long it would take her to get into the box at this rate quelled her contentment, though. She might not be able to lift the curse any time soon.

Appraising the box from a different angle of view, Hermione noted a slight change of its colouring when she tilted her head just so. A spot seemed to marr the otherwise flawless surface. This shouldn't have been possible as the box was guarded by such heavy wards. She leaned closer and tried different perspectives, at the same time being careful not to get ensnared by the deceptive inlay, until she could safely determine the location of the tiny dot on the embedded surface. With a renewed rush of vigour, she grabbed her magnifying glass and zoomed in, blinking a couple of times to clear her field of vision.

The speck was a tiny crest. Three black ravens were depicted, topped by an arm which held a sword, and a skull surrounded by acantus leaves. She didn't have to increase the zoom of her glass to know the family motto written beneath it.

 _Toujours pur._

It was the _Black_ family crest.

Hermione recoiled from the item and took a stuttering breath, her thoughts a wild disarray of possibilities and recollections. Against her will, she _felt_ the cold steel of the cursed knife press against her, the sharp tip piercing the sensitive skin of her forearm. The scar seared up in pain. In reflex, Hermione rubbed one hand over it and grimaced. She pressed her damp and shaking hands against her thighs, and concentrated for several long moments on her lungs expanding and contracting.

When she felt more like herself again, she sat down at the desk positioned against the far wall from the examination table. Her pen scratched over the paper, making her grimace at the atypical chicken-scratch of her writing as she summarised today's discoveries.

The association of the box with the Blacks was an extremely unpleasant development. Hermione liked Andromeda well enough and managed to tolerate Draco's mum in little doses, but the remaining one of the Black sisters? Bellatrix had left the most profound impression by torturing her.

Quickly shoving the horrific memories to a distant compartment of her mind, she deliberately ignored the frantic pounding of her heart. Not even the view of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor had evoked such a strong response in her.

The lack of sleep and drain of magic must have affected her more than she'd realised, judging by how completely her thoughts had just drifted off her work _again_.

Skimming the bullet points on her tidy and neat list as her pen tapped an irregular staccato onto the paper, she pondered her options. Tomorrow she would remove the topmost layer of spells and then assess the logical steps imperative to open the box as quickly as possible. Hermione pursed her lips. It was a shame that the Gringotts Code forbade the involvement of strangers, otherwise she'd simply ask Andromeda or even _Mrs Malfoy_.

But while she was not to contact anyone outside of the bank, nothing prohibited her from looking for information in any place she deemed appropriate. Maybe that place turned out to be a pleasant location filled with books and even more pleasant company to conduct her research.

Just as the Malfoy library, for example.

ooOoOoOoo

 _Draco,_

 _I'm feeling bad for cancelling our appointment. Can I make it up to you? How about lunch tomorrow?_

 _HG_

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, almost inclined to deny her a lunch meeting. At the same time, his desire to see her was steadily outgrowing his soreness for her earlier cancellation of tonight's dinner date.

Who was he kidding; of course he'd hoped to see her again as soon as possible. Maybe they'd even accomplish some research, too. He was getting past the point of denying his attraction, at least to himself. Now he needed to figure out a way to get her to come over more often.

Staring at the parchment in front of him, his fingers fondled the barbs of his quill. Like Granger, they were smooth when stroked in the right way, but stood on end if not. He was sure he'd find a way to stroke all of her just like she would want him to. She'd purr and keen at his touch, nipples pebbling under his affections. She'd squirm in rapture as all of his appendages would wind around her arms and bare legs, teasing the soft insides of her thighs until he'd be able to inhale her arousal. Her back would arch to get even closer to his touch—

Feeling his cock strain against his trousers and the skin on his back getting ready to burst, he hastily curbed his daydream. Of course, he could give in to the urge to jerk himself off about every time he thought of her, but that might just occupy most of his day.

 _Hermione,_ he began to write. He ran the top of the feather along his jaw, feeling a light shudder of pleasure running down his spine before he pulled his mind out of the gutter, again. He sighed; he couldn't seem to help himself.

 _I managed to free a slot in my calendar. I suggest we meet at the 'The Silver Unicorn' in Diagon Alley at 12:30. They serve a decent roast._

 _DM_

It wasn't that he had a terribly busy schedule, to begin with, but he didn't have to tell her that. Torn between the earlier discontent and the current elation, he finished his answer with a flourish at the end of his initials and fastened the sealed scroll to Aures' leg. He scratched the owl's neck and head, and smiled at the low cooing sound she made before he sent her off.

Draco looked at the many pages of notes strewn across the desk. The past hours had been prolific despite his wandering thoughts, and the Reperio charm was a real asset in finding content and cross-referencing. He'd been able to narrow down a handful of descriptions and theories by his grandfather, and systematically listed them on separate sheets. His mind wandered to Hermione as he imagined her shining eyes, eager to hear his latest findings. She'd lean forward and grant him a glimpse of her cleavage, or maybe she'd even press against his side, stroking his additional limbs while she praised him. And then she would—

 _No_.

Shaking his head to sternly dispel this very naughty train of thought, he piled up his notes. Whenever he thought of her, there was this weird feeling of free-falling below his ribcage. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation, he decided.

Draco smiled in anticipation.

* * *

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